


Need For Respite

by LittleRocker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Bran is a genius, Cliffhangers, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Smut, Graphic Description, Happy Ending, Holiday, Jon Snow is a Stark, Killing, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of Rape, Mercenaries, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Rickon is a sweetheart, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sexual Content, Suspense, Teen Jon Snow, Violence, and they have no idea what to do, at least i hope so, both Robb and Theon are two debutant single dads basically, code names, spies in disguise - Freeform, still they’re cute as hell, trying to make this both funny and creepy, underage only because satin and Jon are still teens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRocker/pseuds/LittleRocker
Summary: Robb Stark is a spy. And now a single dad as well. Following both his parents and sisters’ death, he now has to look after his brothers, two of whom are young spies as well. Still trying to find the killer of his family, evidence brings the Stark brothers in Dorne. Soon, Robb will find out he might be sharing with someone his only purpose in life, that maybe that day things went a little different than he always thought and that, above all, he just got laid with the competition.Theon Greyjoy is a mercenary. He’s young, he’s handsome and he likes to hook up with whoever he runs into during his missions. He’s been doing his job for ten years, he’s a professional. But never, ever in his whole career, he’s been hired to kill the murderer of a whore. And never ever in his life, he had imagined he would’ve had to look after that whore’s fucking stubborn son in the middle of a mission.Meanwhile, two messed up teens meet each other while pretending they’re on holiday.
Relationships: Everyone & Everyone, Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Satin Flowers/Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy & Satin Flowers, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS JUST A PREVIEW. 
> 
> I don’t know when the very first chapter will be out, I shouldn’t be posting this story with two other works still unfinished, but this quarantine is making me want to write new things. This is going to be a short story with long chapters. It probably won’t even reach 10 chapters.
> 
> English is not my first language, let me know if you like it, cause if you do, chapter 1 might come out earlier than I thought, lol.

-Jon, stay close.- Robb had shielded his brother with his body, when the warehouse doors and windows all closed with a sharp and sudden thud.

-What's going on?- Jon asked, trying to lean over to see over his older brother's shoulder.

-I don't know.- Robb held the gun tight and his ears pricked. It had to be a simple mission: their parents took care of getting the Red Woman to talk, Sansa and Arya individually tried to find and take the briefcase and Robb and Jon stood near the entrance to prevent access to further guards and blockany kind of hindrance.

But they had been caught off guard: everything had been sealed around them mechanically, and Robb and Jon were locked in a huge room that smelled of turpentine and another dozen of flammable liquids.

And now they were all divided: Sansa in one place, Arya in another, their parents in another again. And they were in trouble.

-Guys, what's going on?- asked the voice coming from the two boys' earphones, followed by a long sip taken from a carton of fruit juice.

-Bran, we're in trouble.- Jon said, not daring to get away from Robb.

-How much trouble?-

-Very much.- Robb looked around, looking for an escape but only finding a pair of speakers located at the corners of the wall. It's not a good thing, he thought.

-You‘re stuck at the entrance, according to what my laptop shows.- there was a noise of keys and a few clicks.

-Your laptop is not wrong.- Jon muttered, wincing when the deafening noise of a stadium trumpet rang across the room, forcing both boys to cover their ears with the palms of their hands.

-Five minutes to the explosion.- a mechanical voice announced, then a series of "beeps" began, which interspersed from second to second, to mark the passage of time.

-Explosion?!- exclaimed Bran, while Robb clutched an arm around Jon's shoulders.

-Tell me that you can get us out of here, buddy.- he begged him: it was especially in moments like those that having a little genius in the family came in handy.

-Okay okay.- Bran said, typing even faster on his computer keyboard. The noise was annoying, but Robb could stand it if it helped save his own skin.

-I got thi...- Bran's words stopped, or, as better said, they cracked up to bend: there was a problem, a serious problem.

-Bran, what's going on?- Robb remained alert and attentive, he had to do it for both of them, since Jon was breathing deeply into his lungs, inside and out: he was scared, and he was trying to keep calm, but he was unable to reason correctly. It was up to Robb to guard both of them.

-I can't see where mom, dad and Sansa and Arya are anymore.-

Robb stiffened: -What do you mean you can't see it anymore?-

-It means that first they were each at a different point, then they all moved simultaneously, then the position changed completely, as if they had teleported and now they’re gone!- under that exclamation, Robb heard a slight lament that said:"Bran, stop yelling," Rickon, of course.

-Robb, we don't have much time.- Jon pointed out.

The beeps did not cease, time passed. That place would have blown up, with them inside. They were trapped, and the only hope that they (or rather, Robb and Jon alone) had to get out of it alive was only Bran.

-Bran, you have to concentrate, kiddo: help us get out of here. I know you can do it .- Robb tried to make sure that his brother was concentrated again: there was not a minute to lose. They had to get out of there right away.

-Okay, okay.- Bran exclaimed, and the key clicks got louder and faster, and this time it was music for Robb's ears.

-Robb, what about the others?- Jon grabbed his hand, looking at him with wide eyes. 

He was sorry to say it, but the time had come to look at reality in the few minutes of time left: if someone had survived, only the two of them would have.

-We don't have time to think about it, Jon.- Robb saw that Jon wanted to retort, yell at him that he had lost his head, that you didn’t abandon your family, but Robb wouldn’t have cared: he had five minutes to decide what to do, and it would have never been enough to find all his family and save them. He was the eldest, and he had to make a choice: he couldn't save his whole family, but he could save Jon at least. He would never allow himself to give up and look his brother in the eyes, crying, until time ran out. Maybe it wasn't fair to mom, dad, Arya and Sansa, but he would have kicked one of those doors down, just to be able to save at least Jon, who was the one closest to the exit. He, they, could still be saved, and not leave Bran and Rickon alone.

So when the voice in his ear spoke again, Robb grabbed Jon by the arm and dragged him by force: -Okay, there should be the front door on your left.-

-Yeah.- Robb confirmed once they were in front of it.

-There‘s a panel on the left.-

-Yeah, I can see it.-

-The code is 0045.-

God bless you, Bran.Robb typed the keys on the dial, while the speaker "beeps" grew louder, a sign that by now the time was seriously running out.

-Press the green button.- Robb did. Nothing. Wrong code, wrong code.

-It‘s not working.- He whispered, putting his hands on his hair, while Jon collapsed to the ground.

Bran made a long and uncertain "uuuh": -Don't panic, I'll take care of it.-

Robb shook his head: -You must hurry!- he exclaimed, before grabbing his brother's arm again to try to make him stand back up.

Jon resisted.

-Jon, you have to get up!-

-I don’t want to go!Not without them!- shouted the boy, who was shaking from head to toe.

Robb shook his head, and with a tug given with all the strength he had in his body, he made sure to make him stand on his own two feet; he took his face in his hands and brought it close to his: -I won't let you die, okay?!I can’t!-

Jon was about to reply something, but thank God Bran returned to be heard: -Okay okay okay: 0306002. I repeat, 0306002.-

Robb kept one hand firmly around Jon's arm, while with the other he tried to write the number as quickly as possible and without making mistakes. 03,06,002. 03,06,002. 03,06,00...

The steel door began to slide to the right, revealing the outside world. Robb didn't have time to sigh with relief, because as soon as the door had created a gap wide enough he started to run.

He ran as fast as he could, dragging Jon behind him. He literally made him fall to the ground, under the wall that enclosed the entire building, and stretched out over him to protect him.

Robb could hear him screaming even when the bomb went off.

That’s how it went. It should have been a simple, very simple mission. Child's play. He had took part in riskier missions when he was only thirteen. Maybe that had been their mistake: they had taken everything too much for granted. And they paid the consequences.

Mum, dad, Sansa and Arya were no longer there.

-Robb? Robb, tell me you're there. Jon?-

Robb got up when he could hear, between the crackle of the fire and Jon's crying, the sound of several cars leaving. It had all been a well-planned trap, and somebody believed they had made a clean sweep. But they were wrong.

-We‘re here, buddy. We made it.- he whispered, while Bran, too, from home, began to cry. And how can you blame him? How could you blame him and Jon? They had just lost half of their family.

Robb reached out to caress Jon's back: -Bran, can you send us a helicopter? We’re coming home.-

He didn’t listen at all the small “yes” shaken by the sobs of his little brother: he was too intent on looking at those dark cars that moved away until they disappeared from his view.

His family had been taken away from him, but they weren’t done yet. Robb was still alive, and he wouldn't find peace until he had revenge. For him, for his family.

That wouldn't have been the last time they'd seen him.

She woke up in the middle of a dark room, feeling a sharp pain on her head. In the distance, she could see a silhouette of a human female body lying on the floor. It had red, long hair.

Sansa? She thought. 

She didn’t even have the time to wonder what happened to her family, to her father and her mother, to her brother and to Jon, who was so much more than just a brother to her but also her best friend, that the pain hit her again, this time much harder.

Although, she could still hear the footsteps approaching her.

Slowly, she raised her head; she tried to release herself once she realized she was chained to the ground, her back to the wall, but the more she moved, the more her head hurt.

-Who are you?- 

It was a female voice. She couldn’t see the person talking to her because if she tired to look up, the pain grew harder.

A punch, right on her left cheek.

-I said, who are you?- repeated the voice. 

She spit some blood and blinked: -The Silent Wolf.- she said.

Another punch.

-Wrong answer.- her capturer said.

-I’m The Silent Wolf.- she repeated.

Another punch. 

-You’re not the silent wolf. You’re not Arya Stark either.- 

She held her breath: how did she know her name? Where was she? What the hell was happening? What happened to her family?

-From now on, you’re No One.- 

She laughed at that: like hell I am. She was Arya Stark, the Silent Wolf, daughter of the Old Wolf and the She Wolf, sister of the Young Wolf, the White Wolf, the Red Wolf, the Winged Wolf and the Wolf Cub, who was still too young to join them but still wanted a code name. She was a member of The Winter Pack. 

She was Arya Stark, daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, sister of Robb Stark, Jon Stark, Sansa Stark, Bran Stark and Rickon Stark. And she was thirteen. 

- _You’re_ no one, if you think you can scare me.- she replied, this time managing to look up.

Much to her surprise, her capturer was a girl around her age: blonde hair, sharp face. She was looking at her which such disgust that Arya feared she would have wanted her to be alive. She was holding something similar to an earphone in her hands. 

Suddenly, she smirked evily down at her.

-From now on, you’re No One.- she repeated, then attached the earphone to her temple. 

Arya felt a shock hitting her brain. And suddenly, against her will and as easily as it was for her to kill someone with her dagger, she became No One. 


	2. A year later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things about the story:  
> Winterfell, is in a diffferent continent than Oldtown, the Iron Islands and Dorne  
> I haven’t set them in real continents (it’s basically still Westeros and something else I’ll come up with), so I can “change the law” however I please without giving anyone false informations. 
> 
> Characters ages:  
> Theon: 28  
> Robb: 25  
> Satin: 17  
> Jon: 16  
> Bran: 10  
> Rickon: 4

There was only one reason why Satin Flowers should not have been there that day: he should have been in bed because the next day would have been his last day of school.

But Satin hadn't been going to school for a long time now, not since The Others had realized how cute he was. Perhaps, however, abandoning everything was the best thing to do: everyone would have known what job his mother did for a living, and they certainly would not have treated him with an eye for that.

Satin had no idea what high school was like: at fourteen, when he should have started it, he was already working.And no, it was not a part-time job that involved taking the neighbour's dog for a walk.

Satin was not a boy like any other, he had been forced to grow up fast. And growing up fast doesn't just mean getting by, it also means doing things you shouldn't be doing until you reach a certain age. Things you should do only with the right people.But Satin had never had the chance to meet them, a right person.

He was only seventeen and had, despite everything, a monotonous life. Not trivial, but repetitive.

It was just him, his mom and a three-room apartment with walls so thin that even the breathing of sleeping people could be heard. Sometimes, when he was younger, Satin would have liked the walls of his room to be soundproofed, so that he couldn't hear his mom when The Others wanted her to be particularly loud, and that she wouldn't hear him when The Others wanted _him_ to be loud. Instead they were forced to hear everything, and everything was too much, so much that they never talked about it.Because it had become routine, and they had to accept it: they couldn’t have gone anywhere, if they stopped.

Satin's mom was beautiful and young, so The Others longed for her.Most of them didn't even know she had a son, and they didn't even ask themselves the problem: it was she who had invited them, standing on that sidewalk with that skirt so short, wasn’t she? And still, it wouldn't have been a problem for them.

His mom didn't want Satin to get in the way when she was working.He obeyed her, but every now and then someone noticed him, usually because they were drunk and entered the wrong room.

Satin was sure he would never forget the day it all started: it was March twenty-eight, exactly one week after his fourteenth birthday.That time Mom had been unable to get him any birthday present because she had a large debt with someone important, and was late with payments. She had been sad, stressed and frightened all month, and Satin had been unable to do anything to cheer her up.

And then on March twenty-eight that man came home. No, that man was not a man, he was a mountain: he was the tallest and biggest person Satin had ever seen.He had to stoop to go through the door. He had a gun in his hand.Behind him there was a much shorter young man.Satin saw that for a moment his mom had stopped breathing.It was like that for him too: he had never seen a gun.He had never seen anyone point a gun at his mom.And he had never seen anyone look at him as that young man was looking at him at the time.

His mother told him that everything was fine, and ordered him to go to his room.The short man told him to stay where he was, and Satin sat on the sofa.They started talking about debts, about things Satin didn't understand well. His mom's voice was shaking, and suddenly Satin thought they were in _serious_ trouble.She still hadn't given that short man the money she owed him and there was nothing she could do to fix things.Except for _one_ thing.These were the words of that short man, before he turned to Satin with a grin printed on his face.

There was no need for an explanation, Satin had understood what the man wanted: he wanted Satin to do with him what his mother did with The Others.

And Satin did.Why?Because his mom was all he had, and if he hadn't done what he was told to do, he would have lost her.

It hurt like hell, but Satin didn't say a word.It was something he learned quickly: shut up and don't complain unless they tell you to do the opposite.He didn't get out of bed for at least five days, partly because of the pain and partly because of the shock, but at least, the numbers checked out, and his mom was fine.And Satin realized one thing: that The Others wanted him as much as they wanted his mom.Giving it up to them would not have been worse than being with that short man.And extra money was always handy.

And so his mother's Others also became Satin's Others.He called them "The Others" because they always changed, always returned and, above all, they were only part of the background of his and his mother's life.

There were a few, Satin learned it early, who were really disgusting: they stank, were violent, got angry immediately and were never satisfied.Others were more clumsy, shy, almost seemed to have been forced to be there with Satin, in his teenage room.They were always the ones who paid best, because they felt guilty.Satin liked to imagine why they were there with him: he felt attraction for males but did not people to know, she only wanted to get away from her husband who didn’t care about her and get it on with a younger boy, he had wife and children onlybecause he was afraid to accept who he really was;instead she was still a virgin in her thirties and had decided to call it quits.

They were always the ones who never came back after one time.Not that Satin cared much, however.Well, actually it mattered a little: if you really had to earn a living by fucking with strangers, everything became more bearable if these strangers, these Others, weren’t monsters.

His mom always told him that he asked too much from life, when instead, from life, he would never get even the bare minimum.And then she leaned her back against the wall, her skirt rising slightly, and she would have lit up another cigarette.

His mom smoked a lot.Satin always told her to stop, but she didn't listen to him.They had a special relationship: more like a brother and sister than a mother and son.It was probably because of the miserable sixteen years of age difference that separated them. But they loved each other, despite the bleak life they had found themselves in. Satin had no idea who his father was, probably one of his mother's many Others. He had no idea what happened to his mom's family, if she ran away from home or if it was a family tradition to walk the streets. But Satin didn't ask questions, because he certainly wouldn't get answers. But it was fine: life had actually gave him the bare minimum, and it was his mom.

He certainly could not have imagined that someday life would turn have wanted that bare minimum back.

Late night, the end of yet another, monotonous, shift.It was Saturday night: The Others were too drunk to have the patience to get to Satin and his mother's house, so they had gone into the alleys near the other "colleagues" all night long. When it was finally time to leave, Satin's knees were shaking and his mom had a bleeding lip.It was just another normal Saturday night.

Satin was taller than his mom, so he kept his head resting on hers as they walked.She kept his arm tight around his hips, and those were the only times Satin didn't mind that gesture.

And then, suddenly, he was torn away from that weak hold.He found himself with his back violently pressed against a wall, and the hand of a person tightened tightly around his neck.

A robbery, of course. It happened all the time, to people like them.

There wasn't just one person though: another black masked figure, small, very small, was pointing a gun at Satin's mom. If at fourteen that gesture had upset him, now that he was seventeen he understood that this was now a routine.All you had to do to get away without getting too hurt was to throw all your money on the ground, stand still while they searched you to make sure you had actually thrown _all_ your money on the ground and occasionally resist as they pushed you towards the first surface they foundand they allowed themselves a moment of leisure, before going back to where they had come from.

Satin wanted to tell them that they would give them anything they wanted, but the hand clasped around his neck prevented him from speaking.

His mother tried to do it: with her hands raised, swallowing and trembling, her makeup smudged around her eyes, her mascara dripping slightly, a false eyelash that threatened to come off, she murmured: "We‘ll give you..."

Then that slender figure dressed in black fired three times, straight on her belly, before Satin's eyes.

The boy saw his mother fall to the ground, and then look at the starry sky with wide but lifeless eyes, while a pool of blood expanded to create a macabre frame around her body.

Satin felt the hand lift off his neck, allowing him to scream his heart out.

_Here, now it's my turn,_ he thought.And the last thing his eyes would see would have been his mom's corpse. So he closed them, sealed them, waiting to hear the sound of the trigger and a bullet piercing his skull, or his neck, his back, or any other part of his body. But nothing happened.

When Satin found the courage to open his eyes and look around, he found himself alone, in a dark alley, with his mother's corpse in front of him and all the banknotes she had earned that evening scattered on the ground.

*

Robb saved Jon from a bullet shot in the head just because then he could have killed him himself.

As the enemy shouted through the hole in the hand that Robb had just procured for him with his firearm, Jon grabbed the man by the head and twisted his neck.

“Well done, Stark.Mission accomplished as usual” said the voice of their boss inside their earphones, but Robb didn’t listen at all: who the fuck cared if they had won again, if Jon had risked dying for the umpteenth timetime for the usual, stupid reason.

"You have to get yourself a weapon," Robb said to his brother, grabbing him by the arm.

Jon was not at all surprised by that order: by now Robb repeated it to him at the end of each mission, he must have got used to it.And in fact, in the same serious tone with which he always answered him, he said to him: "I'm doing just fine".

“You can't expect me to always manage to save your ass. Just because this time we were two against one, it doesn't mean it will always be like this,” said the older brother.

Jon had always been the only one in his family who always refused to use a weapon: unlike Robb, who always used a glock, just like his father did before him, and Sansa, who like his mother,once he used a pocket pistol, and Arya, who hid knives and daggers in whatever fold of clothes she could find, Jon far preferred to take down his enemies with his bare hands.Probably heroic gesture, according to his brother's teenage brain, but highly risky and stupid in the eyes of the rest of the world.

"I know well: it has already happened, remember?"Jon freed himself from his grip with a jerk.Robb sighed: "I think I have an empty memory after the thirtieth time"

Jon rolled his eyes, but Robb didn't let go: he was a teenager, a sixteen-year-old boy, who was already working as a spy. He did perhaps the most dangerous job in the world, a job where he constantly risked, even when out of service, dying.And that damned boy preferred to 'get by with what he had and found' rather than learning to handle a weapon well in order to defend himself.It was stupid, naive and irresponsible.

"Bran and Rickon can't lose you too, Jon," he said.After a year, the two little Starks still hadn't fully recovered from what had happened to their parents and sisters.But neither did Robb and Jon.

Now it was up to the oldest to look after the family, and Robb had grudgingly discovered that this was a hundred thousand times more difficult than defeating ten enemies in one fell swoop.

Jon looked his brother straight in the eye: "They won't lose me"

"Only if you listen to me," Robb insisted.

"I've always made it"

"Because I've always saved you!"

"I would have found a way to-"

"Stark, there‘s no time for brotherly fights: there is the jet waiting for you" Robb bit his tongue: the boss’ voice had become more insistent.And how could you blame him?After all, Robb and Jon ended up arguing about the same thing all the time.

"We're going, Littlefinger," Robb replied with a sigh, then pointing to his brother towards the deceased man with a nod of the head: "Did you get the chip?"

With a quick gesture of his hand, Jon took the little object out of his pocket and showed it to him. Just as their little sister Arya had been, Jon was wily and slender, and able to move and crawl like a snake anywhere.

Arya and Jon were also the only ones in the family who inherited their father's dark hair and gray eyes. The more time passed, the more Robb realized how much the White Wolf was taking on the shape of the Old Wolf more and more. But Littlefinger hardly ever said this: before, when Sansa was still with them, he never spent a minute without reminding her how much she, the Red Wolf, looked like her mother, the She Wolf. 

Now things had changed a little. From eight to four, only Jon and Robb continued ‘working’, Rickon was too young to even know what a spy was and Bran had much more to do than take care of them on a mission.And although Samwell Tarly knew how to get them out of trouble just like Bran could do, he stuttered too much when the situation became critical, for Robb's tastes. And now there were only two of them. The Stark pack had weakened. But work aside, the last thing Robb needed now was to lose another sibling.

He turned off the headset for a moment, then placed a hand on his brother's shoulder: "Hey"

Jon turned to him: "Yeah?"

"I'm serious, we can't lose you"

In response, Jon sighed again and leaned his head against his shoulder.Robb ruffled his hair: it was getting too long, he should have told him to cut it or at least to start tying it, but he had the distinct feeling that Jon loved to make things more difficult, and if he had pointed it out, he would have made it grow on purpose until it covered his eyes.

"You won't lose me: you would never allow it," the boy chuckled.Robb smiled too: no, he would have never allowed it.

Once on the jet, both sprawled on the soft upholstered armchairs, they received a video call from the nearby TV.

The boss of the agency they worked for was called Littlefinger.Nobody knew what his real name was, but he knew everyone's names.He was a short, sarcastic, often perfidious short man.But he knew how to compliment the Starks every time they returned from a mission: "Great job, not that this surprises me"

"Thank you, sir," Jon replied, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

“As soon as you land, there will be one of ours to whom you will have to deliver the chip, so that they can deliver it to me.Then go home and take a few weeks off" Littlefinger’s words were music for Robb's ears: it was summer, and finally they would have had some time for themselves.Jon and the children would not have had their homeschool classes, they could have rested and slept late as long as they wanted;Robb shouldn't have called the babysitter for a while, and so Osha could have taken a well-deserved break.

"Thanks a lot, boss," Robb whispered, exhausted.

Littlefinger nodded once: "You deserve it, with all the services done to your country. Tell the kids I said hi”

Robb tried to smile: "Will do, sir" he would never have done it ever in his life, but this he certainly couldn’t tell him.

After the video call with their boss was over, Robb prepared to start another with his brothers: Bran and Rickon were ten and four respectively.The first was a child prodigy, one of those born once every one hundred thousand years only when all the planets are perfectly aligned and the stars all shine at the same intensity, and Rickon was the most adorable creature in the world.

"Hey, little men!" He exclaimed as soon as the blue eyes and auburn hair of the two little Starks appeared on the screen.

The two children exclaimed loudly and with relief the names of their brothers.

"Did you get hurt?" Bran asked: it was always the first thing he asked after each mission, when they had time to talk.

Jon smiled and showed his banded forearm: "Just a scratch"

_You wouldn't have got that scratch if you had a gun_ , Robb thought, but he didn't say it. Instead, he continued to look at his younger siblings with a reassuring smile: "We will be home just for dinner time: I'll make you Mac and cheese, what do you say?"

The children shouted happily, so loud that Osha had to run to check that no one had been hurt.When she saw that the two little Starks were just talking to their older brothers, she heaved a sigh of relief: “God, you could have told me big brothers had called. How are you? Anything broken?"

Osha was an ex-secret agent who had given up on spy life years ago. She had been taking care of Bran and Rickon long, long before their parents died. She also took care of Arya, when she was still too young to join the Winter Pack. Like his parents before him, Robb trusted Osha blindly: she knew how to fight and use weapons, so she would have been able to protect the children in case something unexpected happened.In the Stark house there were dozens of weapons hidden in secret compartments that could be opened only with fingerprints, so that neither the children nor anyone else could access them.Osha knew every hiding place by heart, and Robb was sure she would never betray them.

“It's all right, Osha. We'll be home in a few hours,” he said, while Jon, next to him, tried to hold back a yawn that didn't go unnoticed.

The babysitter smiled, "Okay, I think it's time to let you rest a little.Come on guys, say bye: you will see each other again soon "

The two children said bye to their older brothers in a loud voice, and Robb told them he could not wait to hug them again.When the TV screen was black again and the only audible noise was Jon's yawn, Robb turned to his younger brother: "You should get some sleep"

Jon nodded, curling up in himself: "Um, you too: you look terrible"

"Well, thank you."Robb tried to smile, but Jon remained serious.He always had that face at the end of the mission: he was tired, and he just wanted to sleep.A bit like a normal teenager who had studied all day, with the only exception that there was nothing normal in Jon: he didn't go to school, he studied at home, he had no friends, he had no idea what it meant to go on vacation, the only idea of love he had was the one in the films he had seen on TV.And he was only sixteen, he was ruining his life for nothing: they could stop it, they could try to start living a normal life.But Robb couldn't do it until he accomplished what had been his sole purpose in life for a year now: to track down the killers of their parents and sisters and take them all out.

"Does your arm hurt?"Robb asked his brother, making himself comfortable on the armchair and closing his eyes.

He heard Jon answer him with a: “Meh, not more than my leg last time”

Robb chuckled: the last time Jon had had a fifteen centimeter cut on his leg.Something that wouldn't have happened if Jon had a weapon.

"You really are an idiot," he declared.

Jon sighed, slightly amused: "I love you too" and those were the last words Robb heard: when he woke up, they had just landed and had a chip to deliver.And two younger brothers to embrace.

Winterfell was a big city, cold just like its name.The Starks lived in a huge house in the woods, far from the social life of the city.A bit as if they were the protagonists of a fairy tale, even if there was nothing magical about it: before they had several cleaning people who kept the house shining.After their parents died, Robb and Jon were assigned fewer and fewer missions, and now they could barely afford the house. Osha was okay with cleaning the kitchen when they were away, while Bran and Rickon did their best to keep their rooms tidy.Usually the first thing Robb did the day after returning from a mission was to clean up: if it were up to him he wouldn't have done it, but it was important to be a good example for Bran and Rickon, because they had the opportunity to save themselves: nothing prevented them from going to college and having a normal life, but it was up to Robb to take care of them so that they could grow well.And god if it was difficult: Robb loved his little brothers, but he wasn't used to having to scold them, to teach them what he could and to make sure that everything was going well.But he tried the same as best he could.

He needed a shower: he was sweating so much that his black shirt was sticking to his body, and his feet seemed to beg him to get them out of his boots.He was so tired that even the gun on his belt seemed heavy.He realized that Jon was in his same state: he was wearing sneakers instead of boots (another thing that Robb wanted to discuss, but it was not the time), but the expression on his face was the same as his older brother’s.

The two brothers went up the stairs that led them to the wooden and brick porch.Robb kept his hand pressed on the bell button, which did not ring but opened a compartment in which the red-haired boy could throw his Caliber: Bran and Rickon always jumped on him when he returned home, and he did not want them to be closeto a firearm for no reason in the world.

Jon pressed his hand against the door, waited for his fingerprint to be recognized and then, when the door opened, he breathed a sigh of relief: they were finally home.

Bran and Rickon jumped on them in an instant: Jon almost fell when the four year old boy jumped into his arms, and Robb had to stifle a groan of pain from the violence with which Bran had crashed on him: if those two had learned how to fight as hard as they hugged they would become two deadly spies.

"Hi, hi!" Robb exclaimed, holding his little brother close to him. He let Bran rest his head against his shoulder for a moment, to physically make sure that he had really come home, then told him to say hi to Jon too.As the other two hugged, Robb welcomed Rickon into his arms, smiling: "Hey! Oh my, what a strong grip! Someone put on some muscle here, huh?"

Getting up, he picked up his little brother: he was getting heavier, he was growing.And Bran...

“And why do you already seem taller to me? It’s only been three days!"He exclaimed: Bran had always been a tall boy for his age, but now it seemed too much.

"Did you behave well while we weren't here?" Jon asked the children, who immediately nodded: "Yes!"

Osha arrived at that moment in the living room, smiling: "Welcome home, guys"

She gave them both a quick hug.

"Hi Osha" Jon greeted her.

Robb gave her a grateful smile: "Thanks for taking care of them"

The young woman barely held back an amused snort: “Do you really want to keep telling me every time? There will come a time when you will get tired of it”

No, he would never tire of telling her: Osha took care of children when he wasn't there, and not only that, she also protected them.So Robb would never stop reminding her of how important she was to the family, especially now that things were so complicated.

He put a hand on her shoulder: "You can stay home for a while now: the boss gave us a few weeks of vacation"

She blinked: "Really?"

Osha knew Littlefinger as much as they did, and she knew how rare it was that he would give someone some rest, away from work.

"Yes: you will have to put up with us for a while now," Jon replied, playfully messing up Rickon's hair.

The children didn't mind that news at all. Neither did Robb and Jon.

Robb asked Osha if she wanted to stay for dinner, but she refused the offer, and so Robb found himself cooking dinner alone: he had never been very good at cooking, not even something easy like Mac and cheese, but you learn only with practice, don’t you?

When he thought it was the right time to turn off the stove before he could cause irreparable damage to food, Robb looked out the kitchen door towards the living room: Bran, Jon and Rickon were watching TV;the light was off, the two younger ones pressed against the teen’s side.

Jon was supposed to change his bands soon, but he seemed too relaxed to think about it.

"Dinner is almost ready: go wash your hands and then take a seat," said Robb.

He watched Jon and Rickon get up and walk towards the upstairs bathroom while Bran shyly approached him.

"Robb"

The redhead sighed: "Yes, Bran?"

"They haven't been able to spot her yet," explained the boy.

Robb closed his eyes: Bran was perhaps the one who had been most marked by the death of their parents and the girls, precisely because he felt he hadn't done enough to save them.It was no news for anyone in the family that Robb wanted at all costs to find the perpetrators and make them pay for it, and since Bran had known he had done his best to help him: he had hacked contacts of other secret associations scattered throughout the world so that they know where the Red Woman was, if they ever saw her.

The Red Woman had been the main target of their last full family mission: she was a wanted criminal around the world, because nobody knew who she was. She had the ability to disappear and disappear when she wanted, almost as if she had supernatural abilities.Robb and his parents had almost got her. Until it was she who had got them.

Littlefinger was unaware of Robb's thirst for revenge, and so it should have stayed: it was a private matter and Robb wanted to handle it on his own.And Littlefinger would never let him.

Robb had Bran as IT support, but Bran hadn't worked for the secret association since he lost half his family.He continued to have his own computers and all the advanced devices he had built himself, but he no longer worked with Robb and Jon when they were on a mission. He was now replaced by Samwell Tarly, another genius-born boy who was about Jon's age, a boy Robb would have liked to see Jon befriended in the corridors of a high school.

He rubbed a hand through his brother's hair: "We just have to be patient"

"But we're so close!"Bran exclaimed.

"Last time she narrowly escaped us!"

Yeah, the last time Bran had managed to find the position of the Red Woman, his computer had suddenly bugged and stopped working, leaving the Starks empty handed.They had tried to reach the place marked on the computer map (it was so close to Winterfell that Robb would have punched a wall), but they had not achieved results.What they needed was to constantly know every movement of the woman, once traced, and it was an impossible goal to achieve, this Robb had to recognize it.

"I‘m sure it will be better next time," he tried to reassure the boy, shamelessly lying to him.Robb hated lying to him, but there was no other way to make him feel better: capturing the Red Woman was Robb's only great desire, but lately it was proving to be just a fantasy.

"What will you do when you’ll get her?"Bran asked him suddenly.Robb was taken aback: did he have to tell him that he would kill her, exactly as she had done with their family?Bran wasn't a fool, he knew what Jon and Robb were doing on a mission, he knew that his twenty-five and sixteen year old brothers were killing bad people all the time, but this time... this time there was no mission.This was only revenge.

"I’ll ask her questions," Robb replied, avoiding looking the boy in the eye.

"And that’s it?"

He couldn't give him that kind of teaching. Make him believe that the best revenge was to kill someone who took away what you held dearest. But, after all, he was already doing it.

Robb shook his head absently: "Go wash your hands, come on"

He didn't want to talk about it anymore, and this Bran understood. And Robb knew there were a thousand answers to a question when you refused to speak.And Bran had just received all the information he wanted to know.Robb only wondered what he thought about it: if he considered revenge a deplorable action, or if he too wanted the Red Woman to die.He was constantly looking for her tracks, but why?Because he wanted her dead or because he simply wanted to know why she had done what she had done?

Robb refused to think about it a minute longer: he had returned to his family, he had to think positive.

The boys liked dinner.Sure, Robb still had a lot to learn, but it was a start: still better than the time he tried to cook chicken.

After dinner, Robb helped Jon to change the bandages on his arm, then joined his brothers on the sofa: they were giving an old animated film on TV, which Bran liked a lot, although his brilliant brain could suggest otherwise.Instead, Robb didn't pay much attention to the film: he spent the whole time thinking about how pleasant it was to be back home.He only stopped fantasizing when the clock struck midnight and Robb realized that Rickon had fallen asleep on the sofa.

He would have slapped himself: a four-year-old boy should not have gone to bed so late.

"God, it's so late." He sighed.

"Come here" he took his little brother in his arms, not expecting him to open his eyes and reach out to the TV, yawning: "No, I'm not tired, I want to see how it ends..."

"Yeah, I don't think so."Robb retorted, then turned to the ten-year-old boy: "Bran, you have to go to bed too"

Bran frowned: "But I'm not sleepy!"

"Bran" Robb was not in the mood for discussion: it was late, and the children had to go to sleep.He had to make sure they listened to him, because now it was his turn to lay down the rules.

"There’s only fifteen minutes left, at least let me see how it ends," he tried to bargain.

Robb shook his head: "Bran, it's late: don't make a fuss."

He took Rickon upstairs, put on his pajamas as best he could (Rickon was too tired to collaborate), and tucked him in the covers: "Night, buddy" he pressed a light kiss on his forehead and went downstairs again, where he eventually ended up letting Bran stay awake until the end of the movie.

He did it mainly because he realized that the light in the kitchen was on again and that Jon was no longer in the living room.He found him intent on washing the dishes, while blinking his eyes repeatedly to try to stay awake.

Sometimes Robb would have willingly slapped him: Jon was always the one who got hurt the most on missions, and then he always tried to mask the pain, helping Robb with the house and with the boys as best as he could.But he didn't have to, not when he needed to rest.

"Jon, go to bed too: I'll take care of it here," Robb said to the boy, taking the soapy glass from his hands and placing it on the sink.

Jon immediately tried to protest: "But you've already made dinner ..."

Robb shook his head: “And I will also wash the dishes. Come on, go: you need to rest”

Jon snorted: "Tomorrow, however, I‘ll make breakfast"

No, he wouldn't have done it, because Robb would have woken up earlier on purpose to avoid that he could burn the bandages on his arm or make a mess. And when Jon went downstairs, Robb would order him to shut up and eat his breakfast, then he would have messed his hair.But this Jon was not yet required to know.

"Deal."Robb answered, then waited until he heard his teenage brother's bedroom door close.

He finished washing the dishes, allowed himself a glass of vodka and finally, he went to smoke a cigarette on the porch of the house, keeping his elbows leaning against the wooden railing and admiring the night woods that stood out around him: a year earlier,Rickon had ran to him shouting that he had seen a wolf near the house.Nobody believed him, but they pretended to be surprised.Robb now hoped that Rickon had really seen that wolf, he hoped that it could magically appear out of nowhere to watch over him when Robb was not at home.

The 25-year-old sighed for a long time when the door opened from inside the house and steps approached him.

"I told you to go to bed"

Jon sat next to him and shrugged: "You should be there too"

With a nod of the head, Robb pointed to the cigarette he had between his fingers: "I’ll finish the cigarette and then I’m going"

"I’ll stay with you until you're done"

Robb would have happily smoked a whole package, but for that time he decided to do without it.

"How's your arm?" he asked.

Jon smirked and pulled the cigarette from his hands to make a shot: "Like the last time you asked me. Everything good?"

Robb watched his little brother smoke: he usually didn't, Jon didn't smoke, except on some missions, depending on his coverage. But Robb was certainly no one to tell him not to do it, so he simply answered his question: "Bran is sad"

"He has been for a year now" Jon passed him his cigarette again.

Yes, Bran had been sad for a year now.Robb certainly couldn't have brought Mom and Dad back, or Sansa and Arya, but he could have done one thing, if they could find the Red Woman and anyone else with her who killed them.

"Finding them is all I ask, you know?"Robb started.

"I need a respite with myself: if I find them and balance the scores, then I can breathe a sigh of relief."

"Robb ..." Jon began, but then decided to let him continue.

The fingers of Robb's hand trembled so much that the cigarette seemed one step away from falling: “If I found them and killed them, I would immediately resign: I would find a normal job and stay at home to take care of the children.Maybe we’ll have to find a smaller house, but if at least you could start attending a public school and make some friends.It would do you good. "

Jon could have started high school, Bran middle school, Rickon kindergarten or elementary school.They were still in time to grow up, fall in love, make friends.Even Jon was.All they had to do was end their spy career with one last, personal mission.

"Would you like us to live a normal life?"Jon rested his head against his older brother's shoulder as their arms touched.

Robb nodded, looking down: "More than anything else"

Jon patted him on the shoulder with his hand, then squeezed it slightly: “We will find those assholes, Robb.And at that point we will be in respite with ourselves "

Robb was going to answer him and say something very important: namely that they would not find those assholes, because Robb would never have allowed him to go with him.They weren’t dealing with a stupid woman, and that wasn’t a mission like the others.Last time they had lost too much, and Robb couldn't let anything happen to Jon: if something happened to him, to Robb, Osha would take care of the boys until their uncle Benjen came to pick them up and take them to live with him.But Jon was also included in the "boys", because Robb would never let him die.Never.

He was going to give him all this huge speech, and he wouldn't accept even a single protest, but the words died in his throat when he saw all the lights in the living room light up and he heard his little brother shout: "Robb, Robb!"

He casually threw the cigarette into the ashtray resting on the table to his right, and ran to meet the boy: “Bran, what's going on?Are you hurt?"

He took his face in his hands to check for any injuries, but Bran was fine: he only had wide eyes and heavy breathing. And his laptop in his hands.

"They found her!"He yelled.

“I overheard a conversation!The guy who was on a mission died, but he managed to implant a chip on her without her noticing!I managed to hack the chip and track it down!"

It took him a while to figure out what the boy had just said: he had tracked down the Red Woman.He knew where she was.She had a chip on.It had to be one of those chips that were so small that they were implanted in the bullets: when they hit the target, the chips came off and remained inside the person, so that they could not be removed together with the bullet.This Robb knew this very well because he had once caught one, straight in one leg.It was Bran who noticed it, right after that, when the mission seemed apparently over, a new wave of enemies had attacked them. Robb had had to undergo a very long operation to get the chip removed, he even risked losing a leg.Maybe it would have been better.

But now, now they were one step away from taking their revenge.

"And where is she now?"Jon immediately asked.

"Dorne" Bran showed his brothers the laptop in which a map with a red dot appeared: Bran had created this program that was able to warn him whenever someone had news of the Red Woman.And it had finally worked.

Jon put a hand on his older brother's arm: "We have to leave immediately."

No, not them.Only him.Robb shook his head, and Jon frowned: he had already understood what his brother was going to say but did not want to accept it: "Robb" he had only pronounced his name, but the implied words were high: 'do not be an idiot'.

"I'll go alone," said the young red-haired man.

Jon looked at him as if he had just lost sanity: "You've got to be kidding me"

"I can't lose you"

"And I can't lose _you_!"

And they would surely have quarreled (Robb would surely have told him that between the two of them the one who risked the most being killed was the one who refused to carry a weapon), if Bran, the genius of the family, had not decided to choose just that moment to say the bullshit of the century: "We must all go"

Slowly, Jon and Robb turned to the boy: "What did you just say, young man?” The 25-year-old asked him, hoping he had heard wrong.

But Bran rolled his eyes and began to explain: “If you want to do this in secret, you will need IT help.I’m the only one who has the right stuff and is willing to help you"

Jon shrugged: "You can do it with your little ass in front of the desk in your room, Bran"

The boy rolled his eyes again.It seemed to mean: 'these two are just _stupid_ '.

"Dorne is on another continent!"he Exclaimed.

“I will never find a way to help you from here!I must be at least on the same continent as you to communicate with you via headset!I have to come with you"

Sure, so it was now possible to locate a person to a continent away but it was not possible to speak from earphone to earphone if you were not on the same continent.Robb didn't understand anything about computer science, but there was something that didn’t smell right. And the fact that Jon seemed to be convinced that Bran's words were indeed correct, infuriated him.

“Nobody knew that mom and dad had two other children: they have no idea who Bran is. If he stays in the hotel maybe we can..." began the teenager, but Robb interrupted him immediately: “You're kidding, I hope"

But no, Jon wasn't joking.Jon never joked, he was always serious when he was interested in an shitty idea, as always.

“What other chance do we have?Bran is the only one who can help us without taking the risk that Littlefinger finds out "

Robb wanted to tell him no, no way, that it was too dangerous and that Jon should not have participated in the mission either.But the truth was that alone he would never make it: he needed someone behind a screen to help him from a distance, and someone by his side to help him with his enemies.And maybe, just maybe, if Bran had really stayed in the hotel, nobody would have suspected anything.

"Rickon will stay with Osha," he decided therefore.

He believed that this could be a fair compromise, but Jon shook his head again: "We can't leave him here alone, they will understand that something is wrong: let's pass it off for a family holiday"

" _Jon_ " Robb was speechless: Rickon was four years old!Bran was their computer genius, Jon was Robb's right hand man, but Rickon was a kid! He could not be put in the middle!If Littlefinger had discovered them, if he had discovered that they were investigating on their own, he could even have accused them of treason.And Littlefinger knew who they were, where they lived, he also knew about the children.But yes, maybe leaving Rickon with Osha would have looked more suspicious than telling their boss that they would take advantage of the weeks of vacation they had been given on to go on holiday.

Jon tried to reassure him: “They will be safe in the hotel.Nobody has any idea who they are"

Robb sighed: they were so close to the Red Woman, they couldn't miss it.Not now that they could control her every move.But they had to act cautiously, without getting caught by enemies nor friends.And perhaps peddling everything for a family vacation was the best choice.

"We‘re leaving early tomorrow."He decided.

"Now go to bed”  


*  


"Please, I can give you everything: money, whores ..."

The Kraken rolled his eyes: they all said so once they were tied to a chair and with a gun pointed at them. That idiot was just one of many others who had tried to bribe him unsuccessfully.He knew well that he should not trust anyone: the customer was only one, the first, do not turn around because when you‘ll be the one tied to that chair, you will regret it.

"Yeah, the fact is that I already have money and whores." He started.

“And if I don't finish this job, my head will be pierced by a bullet. And I don't want this to happen, do you understand me?"

But no, he didn't understand it, that man in front of him didn't understand anything.The fat man was nothing more than an enriched drug dealer who now ran an escort agency.He was an idiot who was unable to make even half the right decision.

"Please, I don't ..."

The Kraken interrupted him again: “You tortured and killed your rival's daughter and you really thought he wouldn't send someone to kill you?Or maybe you just hoped that someone wouldn't be able to beat your four bodyguards?"

Those four apes had been slower than a sloth with a broken arm: the Kraken had shot all of them before they even had time to grab their guns or even notice him.What a bunch of imbeciles.

"Honey, they may be big and big but they have the intelligence of a goldfish," he chuckled.

The man (what was his name? Who cares) continued to implore him: "Please, I can ..."

The Kraken knelt in front of him, put the gun on the ground and tightened the ropes around the man's fat wrists, blocking him even more on the chair.Then he grabbed the weapon again and pressed it forcefully under his mouth: "Maybe we didn't understand each other: I have no compassion for anyone, friend.Otherwise I wouldn't do this job here"

"You could work for me! Whatever amount you ask, I'll give you twice as much...” bang.

_ Fuck, I have to stop shooting them always under their mouth: I always end up having to wash the blood off my face. _

"I've never liked ass kissers." Muttered the Kraken, while his eyes peered at the small and shabby apartment, looking for a bathroom where he could wash his face.He shook his head in disgust when he entered the filthy bathroom of the motel: that idiot had a lot of money but had decided to hide in a shitty place because he was convinced to go unnoticed.Pfft, he didn't know who he was dealing with.Nobody knew.And nobody stayed to tell their friends. Or enemies.

Well, now that he had cleaned up, it was time to go home: there was a repeat of the third season of Criminal Minds on TV that evening, he didn't want to miss it.

The Kraken hardly ever robbed his victims: the money that was given to him for the work he did was enough and went forward all his expectations, his home was proof of this.However, the twinkle of the dead man's wrist in the chair caught his attention: he had never had a Rolex, and now there was one right there, for free.

He took it off the corpse's wrist with a shrug, thinking that surely the bloodstains would disappear with a little soap.

Leaving the motel and heading for his motorbike, the Kraken hurriedly sent a very simple message to his client: _done_.About five seconds later, he received a notice informing him that a significant sum of money had been added to his bank account.

And at that moment the Kraken could stop being the Kraken and start being the man he really was, Theon.

His dark hair had begun to fall on his face again, so he had to untie off his bun and tie it again.He got into the saddle of his motorbike and with one hand grabbed his helmet, while with the other he typed a number and put the phone to his ear: "Yes, hello?It's still me. I'd like to order a takeaway pepperoni pizza.”

His favorite pizza maker told him that there were no problems and that the pizza would be delivered to him within twenty minutes.

Theon barely refrained from dancing for joy: "Wonderful, see you soon"

Then he put on his helmet and darted home at full speed: he loved sitting on his motorbike, especially after completing one of his chores.

When he parked and took off his helmet, his hair threatened to untie again, but Theon went straight into the house without thinking about it: when you have a gun in your jacket pocket, it's best to stay out as little as possible.

So he entered the house, took off his jacket and laid it on the coat rack, holding the gun in his hand and moving to go into the living room and put the weapon in its usual hiding place, in the secret compartment under the coffee table.But he stopped and raised his weapon as soon as he heard the sound of a chair moving from his office, the one where he usually received customers.

There was someone in his house.

_Damn assholes, couldn’t you just take an appointment?_ Provided that they were customers and not other mercenaries hired to take him out.Which would have been somewhat difficult since Theon, the Kraken, was the best one around.And of this Theon was certain precisely because no one remained to confirm it.

Silent as a snake, he crawled with his back along the wall until he reached the front door of his study.He was about to kick the door open and shoot bullets everywhere, when he noticed the familiar calligraphy note stuck on the door:

_ DON'T SHOOT, YOU IDIOT _

Theon grunted, recognizing his older sister's handwriting, and opened the door: Asha was sprawled on his swivel chair, with her feet resting on the desk. She was smoking a cigarette, turned slightly to the side, so that the tattoo on the part of the head she had shaved could be seen largely: the tentacles of a kraken, whose head could be seen in the girl's neck. The half of hair she still had on her head, however, was short and tangled, and it could barely be seen, because the girl was turned to the side, intent on exchanging a glance with a boy with delicate features and dark hair and eyes.

"Welcome home, baby brother" Asha greeted Theon with a mocking smile on her face.

Theon rolled his eyes: "Fuck Asha, I could have killed you!"

The older sister shrugged: "Yet I'm still here, aren't I?"

Theon ignored her, and nodded to the unwanted and unknown guest: "Who's the kid?"

Asha put out her cigarette in the ashtray nearby: "Your next customer," she said casually.

Theon gave the boy a better look: he was tall, thin as a nail and seemed to want to be everywhere except there.He wouldn't even have been eighteen.

"You're kidding," said Theon to his sister. Why had she brought a kid to his place?A customer?That was not a customer, that was an infant!

"She’s not kidding," the boy opened his mouth for the first time.His voice was sweet and light, despite the fact that he was trying hard not to stutter.

Theon raised an eyebrow: "How old are you?"

"Nineteen"

_Yes of course, and I work for the queen._ Theon drew his gun: "Who do you think you're dealing with?Speak the truth or find yourself with a hole in your head"

But that gesture did not seem to disturb the boy more than he already was. Anyway, he said the truth: "I'm seventeen"

Theon turned to his sister, exasperated: "Where did you find him?"

Asha shrugged, and lit another cigarette: "In an alley in Oldtown: he's the youngest and the prettiest"

God, so he was a whore.In Oldtown there were only whores and hooligans that Theon was usually sent to kill. He had fucked a few guys in Oldtown, this boy here did not look like someone who lived in a brothel: he was too run down. Brothel whores were expensive, precisely because they were the most fit.This boy, however, must not have touched food for days.

"Are you kidding me?!" He Exclaimed.

"You fucked him?! He’s a _minor_ " not that it should have surprised him: Asha was his sister, after all, and like Theon, she had her kinks.

She rolled her eyes: "Can we avoid talking about myself and focus on what this sugary has to tell you?"

Theon frowned: "I'm not going to hear what a baby bitch has to tell me, I already have my boys and girls-"

The boy threw a large wad of bills on the desk table.It was definitely too much money to belong to a boy who lived on the street and who seemed to have no idea what a piece of bread was.

"That's all I've managed to put together, but I can steal more if you want," explained the boy.Oh, so he stole them.

Theon took the bundle in his hands and observed it: "What's your name?"

"Satin"

" _Satin?"_ He almost laughed: what kind of name was it?

"A delicate name for a delicate boy" Asha intruded, winking at the boy.Theon tried to hold back a retching, and looked back at the boy: "Who is it you want to see dead, Satin?"

The boy hesitated, and when he opened his mouth he stammered even more: “Actually, I was hoping you could find out. Your sister told me that... "

"Oh wait wait."Theon rejected the bills on the table, "It will cost you much more, if I have to do twice as much work"

He was a mercenary, not a detective or a secret agent: his job was to be told who the target was and kill them.Occasionally it might happen that he did some investigation, but he never did anything for free.

Satin clenched his fists: “I can suck your dick if you want me to. As often as you want, for free”

Theon's eyes widened and he turned away, just as Asha burst out laughing and exclaimed: "Oh yes, he's wonderful with his tongue!"

Theon shook his head: "Shut up!And you, boy: I like to fuck and have my dick sucked, but certainly not by children.Go home "

Theon was twenty-eight, and that was just a kid.And as pretty as he was, he didn't do those things: he already had his contacts. Young boys and girls who never went under twenty-one for when he wanted to hear someone scream under him, and older men for when he wanted to scream while laying under someone. But kids had to be left alone. Kids didn't have to be in brothels, let alone on the streets.

Satin took a step forward: "Please, she said you could help me!"

Theon stepped back and pointed to his sister: " _She_ is an idiot.I'm giving you a chance to get out of here alive, kid: don't think I haven't killed people your age already "

It had happened, yes.Sometimes.Some drug addict kid left behind with payments.

Asha snorted: "Oh so I'm disgusting if I fuck a boy but if you kill one, you’re so cool?"

Theon ignored her for the umpteenth time and looked straight to the boy: "Go home"

A boy should never have tried to hire a mercenary, let alone a boy who was a whore for a living, in the alleys of Oldtown, where he would surely end up being killed in a week.

Satin shrugged: "I don't have a home anymore"

Theon imitated him: "Go back to Oldtown then, I don't care"

"As if it were no less dangerous than being in here with you" did that boy really have the courage to address a guy with a gun in his hand that way?Did he have a clue what he was risking?

"What do you want exactly?"

Satin looked down, and looked even more miserable than he already was: “Someone killed my mom three weeks ago. The police have already closed the case because it‘s just the umpteenth whore.I want you to find out who did that and kill them"

Theon needed a second to swallow the news: did a boy who was a whore want to hire a mercenary to kill his mother whore's killer?Surely he had told Asha what had happened to his mother, and she had made up his mind to go to Theon. The question was: why ?!

Theon looked at his sister in disbelief: "Let me understand something, while you were fucking he said these things to you and you told him about me?!"

Asha chuckled, then turned to Satin: "Honey, show Theon what you found on the ground next to the corpse"

Hesitantly, the boy slipped a white card with red writing on the table, next to the banknotes. Theon took it and read:

_ 039 55* 796 341 Doran Martell _

_ The Red Woman _

"The Red Woman?!"

It couldn't really be her.It could not have been the same woman who had killed his brothers.Theon had been looking for her for years and had never found her, and now this kid came up and suddenly he had a clue?

"Do you know who she is?"Satin asked him.

Theon snorted: “If I did, she would have died long ago. Move over,” he said to his sister, trying to reach the computer on the desk.

Asha took her feet off the desk to let him pass, but didn't get up to let him sit.

"Do you continue to work without a mask, baby brother?"She asked, while Theon typed on the computer,

The younger brother shrugged: “None of those who see me in the face survive, so yes.So this is Dorne's prefix ... "

"Will you help me?"The boy intruded.

"Shut up," said Theon.

Asha took the note in her hands: "Who the hell is Doran Martell?"

Theon shook his head, looking at the image that had appeared on his computer: "It's not a person: it's a hotel. In Sunspear "

" _Will you help me?"_

"Kid, shut your mouth" he shot the boy a fiery glance, but the boy was a tough nut: he wasn't afraid of Theon.Maybe because he knew he wouldn't kill him, for the simple fact that there would be no one to pay him if he did.Well, there would have been his money on the table, but someone with Theon's fame could have asked for a lot more just to kill a simple whore.

"I helped you, and you now help me," said Satin.

Theon looked him straight in the eye: after all, he would have gone to Dorne anyway, even if the intent was not to kill the person Satin wanted.Well, actually, he and that boy had a common enemy: the Red Woman.The one who first killed Theon's brothers and then Satin's mom.

_ All at once, and you get a little something out of it. _

Theon grabbed the bunch of money again: “You‘re lucky: today I am in the mood for discounts.I will leave tomorrow morning;leave me a contact, or an email or something so that I can inform you about... "

"I’m going with you"

Theon blinked a few times: "What?"

In the background, Asha tried in vain to hold back a laugh.

Satin nodded, convinced of what he had just said: “I don't have a phone or an email.And I want to be there when you kill that piece of shit. "

Theon put a hand on his side: "And how are you going to pay for the trip?"Dorne was at least five hours' drive from Oldtown.And he was sure that the boy had no more money to spend even on a train ticket.

Satin nodded to Asha: "She said you always move with your motorbike or car for trips that are not too far away..."

"Christ Asha, seriously?!"Theon wanted to punch his sister: the boy knew more about Theon than his clients, to whom he always had to explain how he acted.Theon liked to drive, so he didn't require drivers or anything.He liked his car and motorbike, so he didn't rent cars.If the target was in a country too far away, he had acquaintances who could give him a helicopter ride, but usually he moved with his car.Alone.Without teenagers in the next seat.

“He has a face that makes me want to tell him everything!Use it to your advantage!"His sister justified herself by stepping on one foot against the desk.

Theon pointed to Satin with eyes that looked at her sister as if she were blind: "He's a _kid_ "

"To which you owe a favor," she pointed out.

Theon fell silent: yes, he had done him a favor, after all.He had finally given him a track to follow, a track that Theon would never and never get to.And maybe, just _maybe_ , if he had been in the company of a boy with puppy eyes, no one could have ever suspected what his true intent was.

He turned to Satin: "We‘re leaving tomorrow: at six o'clock, make sure you’re here"

The boy blushed: "I don't have a watch..."

" _Jesus Christ._ "He almost wanted to tell him to steal one, but he just took off the Rolex that he had stolen just before: "Make sure you don't get it stolen: I want it back tomorrow”

Satin took the object in his hands: "Thank you, sir" Theon did not understand if he was more disconcerted by the value of the object or the bloodstains on it.

"Now go back... to where you came from," Theon finally decreed.

Satin looked at Asha, shyly biting his upper lip.She winked at him, got up, joined him and kissed him on the cheek: "Wait for me in the car, darling: I'll be right there"

Theon rolled his eyes, and waited for the boy to get out of the way.Once he heard the sound of the front door closing, he threw the gun on the desk and looked at his sister: "Why the hell are you laughing?"

She slapped him hard on the shoulder: "Because I would love to see you for once in the role of the older brother, baby bro"

"Ah, shut up." Theon moved away from her with a brusque movement.

Asha crossed her arms over her chest: "That kid has lost everything he had and now he lives on the street"

"It's none of our business," Theon said.

Her amused smirk grew even more: "Ours no, but yours yes, since he gave you everything he managed to steal from his colleagues and friends and now you will also have to pay him a stay in a luxury hotel"

Ah yes, this Theon had not considered it.Ugh.

"When it‘ll be all over he will have to work for me as a butler, to repay himself," he decided.

Asha pinched him on the side which startled him: "You never know, maybe you'll grow fond of him"

"Sure why not"

"I'm already fond of him: I wouldn't mind seeing him more often, if you know what I mean"

Theon put his hands through his hair: "Christ Asha, he's a kid!"

She shrugged, uninterested or impressed: "You were his age when we lost Maron and Rodrik, and I'm sure you were busy getting laid with people my age too"

"Yes, but it was them who worked in brothels, not me" Theon was not a whore, Theon paid the whores.

Asha shook her head, still too amused for Theon's tastes, and grabbed the door handle of the study: “Keep me informed, okay little brother?I'm curious to know what you’ll think of his tongue "

"I'm not going to get a kid to suck my cock and you should leave him alone!"The mercenary exclaimed, exasperated, leaning his backside against the desk.

Asha looked at him confused: "Since when you’re the responsible one?"

"If I find her and kill her, then I could really become one" and Theon this time was dead serious: if he had found that bitch, that Red Woman, he could even have stopped being a mercenary.He had the money now, maybe he could have opened a restaurant.And he would have had a normal life.

Asha's smirk seemed to crack, but it did not disappear completely: "See you soon, little brother" she said, and winked at him.He excused her with a wave of his hand.

_Good_ , he thought, _I'm forced to share the most important mission of my life with a kid._

It couldn't get worse than this.Or could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just found out i might love writing Theon&Satin


	3. Doran Martell Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finally back! I’m currently working on Losing My Religion now so next chapter should be up in a few days (it’s probably going to be a shorter one though). It’s so good to be back, though i have to admit I’m a little scared lol. 
> 
> A few things before you start reading:  
> -Satin’s mom died three weeks before he met Theon, not one, I changed that.  
> -Strong language and some of the other things in the tags happen here  
> -There’s smut near the end, both underage and not, I’ll put this ⚠️ as a warning  
> -It’s a very very very long chapter and I really do hope you enjoy!

It was 6:29am, and if that kid didn’t shown up in front of his door regular as a clock work, Theon would have left without him. Actually, he was hoping it could have ended up that way: his job wasn’t some stupid stunt or a game, it was a serious and dangerous job, no suitable for a kid.

He continued to look at the clock on the wall, sipping his bitter coffee, and almost risked spilling it all over him when the bell rang, exactly at half past six.

_I shouldn't have given him my watch_ , Theon thought, placing the cup on the kitchen counter and going to open the door: Satin was dressed exactly like the previous day, with a blouse that was too big and dark jeans that were too tight.The blouse was supposed to be white, but who knows how long he didn't take it off, now it looked yellowish, almost showing the boy's thin body.His pants left all his ankles uncovered and even a bit higher, the black Converse he had on his feet had worn, ruined cloth, soles and laces. His hair was curly and dark, but it was greasy and knotted. His face was tired. He had only a small pouch with him. Who knows if he had had a productive night, if he had managed to raise enough money even to buy himself something to eat. He decided to ask him.

"Did you have breakfast?"

He was almost as surprised as the boy when those words came out of his mouth: he wouldn’t have given two shits to tell him 'have you fucked enough to allow yourself an expired croissant?', Yet he censored himself.He didn't know why, it wasn't like him: Theon usually didn't mince words.

Satin's face, pale as the moon, turned red.

_ Well, at least he’ll stop looking like a corpse. _

The boy looked down and began to rub his toe on the ground: "N-no, I-I... I have no more money"

Obviously, Theon should have expected it.Maybe he didn't even go back to Oldtown that night, because let's remember he had robbed all his whore friends to pay Theon. But that the boy's friends had now become his enemies had to count very little: it must have been days since he last ate something, and he looked terrible. They had to fix it, otherwise he would have messed up everything.

"Come on, get in," he sighed, motioning the kid to follow him.

Satin frowned, but entered the house anyway: "Shouldn't we go?"

Theon sighed again: "Yes, but I have to explain you a few things first"

The kitchen still smelled of toast and coffee; Theon could swear that the rumbling of Satin's stomach could be heard as far as Dorne, where they were headed. He leaned on the table and looked the boy straight in the eye: "We need a cover"

The boy's black pupils widened slightly: "Oh, okay," he murmured.

"We'll pretend we're two brothers taking one last vacation together before I move to another continent, okay?"Explained the Kraken. The kid nodded a few times times: good, he seemed like a quick learner.

"We can keep our names, but we have to change our surname: how about Pyke?"

Satin shrugged: "It's ... it's okay"

Of course it was: how could he complain about a surname?He already seemed frightened by what he would have to face, by what he would have witnessed, and they hadn’t got into the car yet.

Theon wanted to tell him, for the umpteenth time, to go home, but he refrained: not only because that boy did not have a house anymore, but because returning there would have made no sense, given that, Dorne or not Dorne, Satinhe would have stayed without a family anyway. So Theon nodded once, determined: “Good, listen: the Doran Martell is a luxury hotel. We can't show up there with you looking like you just came out your grave."

Satin blushed, his mouth opened slightly and a slight but surprised gasp came out: "I'm sorry, I ..." he stammered.

Theon raised a hand, inviting him to stop talking, and shook his head, claiming: "Now, you’re gonna go take a shower and I’ll see if I can find some clothes that can fit you, okay?"

_They couldn't_ show up in a five-star hotel with a kid who looked like... yes, like a whore, a run away, a homeless man.Theon did not mind letting him take a shower in his house and lend him some of his clothes: he certainly would not have been the first nor the last of all the strangers to use his bathroom and wardrobe.Of course, this time motivations were a little different, although according to the boy's words, he would have gladly proposed to make those motivations "the usual" again, but it was not something Theon was willing to do. Not with a kid, at least.

However, Satin's dark eyes widened dramatically in surprise: "You don't have to," he said, looking down and rubbing his arm with his other hand.

Theon rolled his eyes: he didn't do it out of compassion, he did it only because if he really should have shared his mission with his client, a goddamn teen, it was necessary to make everything as likely as possible: Theon was well-off, that kid wasn’t. They would never have mistaken them for brothers.

"Yes I have to, or they'll never let us in."Therefore he said.

"Follow me, I'll show you where the bathroom is." he walked, passing the kitchen and the entrance, and then went up the stairs: Theon's house was big, modern, even too tidy for someone like him. His bathroom had both a shower and a bathtub, because you could have two different types of sex in there and Theon wanted to use both when he could; if it wasn't late, he would have even allowed the kid to take a bath in the tub: he would certainly have relaxed a little more, and perhaps he would have stopped having that lost puppy face that Theon hated to see, since it was he himself who insisted on accompanying him on a mission.

With a yawn, Theon nodded to the shower: "Wash your body and hair well: feel free to overdo it, you smell like after-sex"

Who knows _how many_ after-sex actually.He said he had no more money, so it was to be expected that he had no customers to deal with that night, yet he looked tired, exhausted, more than the day before. Maybe because he was troubled by the idea of what he would have undertaken the next day. _Or maybe because he probably slept on a bench, you idiot._

But in the face of that provocation, Satin had no particular reaction, just shrugged and replied: "Customers don't mind"

Theon did not question this, but at that moment he could not really care.

"Well I'm not your client, so I do mind, quite a lot” he threw a sponge at the boy, who grabbed it with both hands.Satin looked at the man, the mercenary, because after all Theon was nothing but that, with gratitude: "Thanks, Theon" he murmured.

Ugh. He was so ... irritating.He should have known better than anyone else that people always acted for ulterior motives, and that especially Theon could not care at all about the health of a baby whore.

"I’m not doing this for you, but for my nostrils."He said, starting to leave the room.

"Come on, get undressed and go into the shower."

Satin didn't have it repeated: he took off his shirt when Theon was still in the bathroom, just to give him time to glimpse the big purple bruise he had on his side. It was not a hickey, Theon had seen and gave many, and that was not a hickey.Maybe he had angered someone. But, whoever they were, he didn't care. The only thing he cared about now was making sure that Satin didn't have a dizzy spell in front of the reception because he hadn't touched food for days: they would have to go unnoticed, and a boy with a corpse-like face, with worn clothes would have attracted the attention of all the rich people who were staying at the Doran Martell Hotel.

Besides, he realised, that boy didn't even have a suitcase with him: what did he need? He was an Oldtown whore, after all, and always would have been. You were born in that place, and there was nothing you could do to escape. So that didn't just mean Theon would have had to pay for a kid's stay in a luxury hotel, but that he would also have to lend him his clothes.

Again, why was he doing it? Why had he said yes? For the Red Woman, of course. The one who killed his family, the one Theon wanted to find and kill to avenge his brothers, as if Maron and Rodrik had been important to him.

He entered his room: the bed was still to be made, and so it would remain until his return; his suitcase was next to the bed, sealed. Theon saw his reflection in the mirror: he still had his hair loose, he wore a light white shirt which, he had to admit, made him look more sophisticated than he actually was. He took off the hair band on his wrist and tied his hair in a messy bun, which was almost his trademark.

He grabbed a small suitcase from above the wardrobe and threw it on the bed, then opened the doors: he snorted. Noisily. Theon was tall and slim, and so was Satin, but any of the mercenary's clothes would have been too big on him anyway.

He took out the first shirts and the trousers that came within range and threw them all in the suitcase: perhaps he had taken too many for a mission that, if good luck had been on their side, would have lasted about a couple of days.

_Why are you acting good?_ He wondered: until two days ago he would have quietly told that kid to ask his customers for some clothes, and now instead he even lent him his stuff.Maybe it was precisely because he had given him a path to follow, to find the person who had taken away half his family, but there was something in his behavior that he still could not explain. Why had he decided, in addition to having prepared the suitcase for that kid, to go back to the kitchen and yes, even prepare breakfast for him.

But there was a ulterior motive, wasn't there? It had to be, because nobody would have taken that kid seriously if he had been... _himself_.

He heated the milk in a saucepan, poured it into a bowl and grabbed a box of cereals, then put everything on the table and went back to the bathroom with a pair of pants and a shirt in his hands: it was starting to get late, that kid better be done.

At the door, he noted with relief that the shower was turned off. Nonetheless, he had no intention of entering and finding a naked kid in front of him, so he took the trouble to knock lightly on the wood of the door: "You done?"

"Yes" the answer came preceded by a cough that Theon paid little attention to: the statement had been enough to convince him to open the door and enter the bathroom.

"These should fit y... _holy shit,_ you have a bathrobe in front of you!"He closed his eyes: Satin was completely naked in front of him, so skinny as to frighten him, and yes, Theon had fucked with boys and girls younger than him, but never of Satin’s age. Why? Because it was wrong even for a piece of shit like him: a kid his age should have been in school, not on the street selling his asshole. That kid did not live in a brothel, which in the end was expensive and whoever worked there lived there but in rather good conditions, that kid lived nowhere: who knows how many times he had been fucked without a condom. Who knows if he had contracted a disease.

How could he be still alive? A kid like him, especially in Oldtown, would have been kidnapped and kept as a personal whore a second after someone had laid their dirty eyes on him. And yet there he was, and despite appearing fragile and easily emotional, he wasn't even ashamed to be naked in front of a person who if he wished he could have blown his head with a single bullet.

"Let me pay you back," the boy whispered, while with a still wet hand he stroked Theon's arm.

The mercenary abruptly pulled away, and threw his clothes on him: "I might be a horrible person, but I don't fuck kids, least of all my customers: _get dressed_ " he ordered, hurrying to leave the room. He had been even too kind to him: if he had even tried to seduce him again he would have slapped him.

But why had he said yes? Couldn't he just tell him to piss off?He had his information on the Red Woman, what was the use of looking for the murderer of a whore with his son?

He shook his head, leaning his butt against the kitchen counter and waiting for the kid to join him. He had to wait very little: Satin now looked much better.His hair was still wet, and his thin arms still frightened him, but at least, now that he had taken a shower, he seemed a little more ... alive.

"How do I look?" The boy said, making a slow turn around for Theon to look at him completely.Theon shrugged: he was a pretty boy, of course, and the Hawaiian shirt he was wearing looked cute on him, but they were Theon's clothes, and nobody could wear them better than Theon.

"Better than before." He muttered, "And if you really wanted to do me a favor, you'd stay at home."

Satin shook his head, sorry: "I can't do this," he said it in the same tone in which the baker told Theon he had finished his favorite sweets.

The Kraken rolled his eyes: “You are more stubborn than my sister. Come on, sit down"

Satin looked like a kid who had guts: he hadn't been intimidated since, the day before, Theon had pointed a gun at him, indeed, he had insisted on getting what he wanted. Yet now, faced with a simple request that would have benefited him more than Theon, here he was closing in his shell.

Theon saw him staring at the bowl of milk and the cereals next to him with wide and eager eyes: "Is it for me?" asked the boy.

Theon snorted loudly: “No, it's for the tooth fairy. Of course it's for you"

He noticed very well how the boy jumped as soon as he heard the word "no", and how his eyes lit up immediately after Theon had uttered the last sentence. But there was still a shadow of doubt and distrust in his eyes, almost as if he thought it was wrong or even impossible that that food had been put there for him. Above all, probably, because Theon didn't want any blowjob in return for doing this.

"Why?" The boy asked in a whisper.

Theon bit his tongue to keep from screaming: wasn't it clear?

“Because we have to look like two rich men, okay?And no one will take us seriously if you pass out in the middle of the reception. Come on, eat now. " From that tone of voice, Satin understood that it was better not to ask any more questions and do as he was told.He sat down at the table (so slowly that Theon nearly took him by the arm, making him fall on the chair), and the hand with which he grabbed the cereal box was shaking so much that Theon was sure he would end up spilling everything on the ground. Satin poured some cereals into the bowl, then grabbed the spoon, all very slowly, almost as if he feared that someone might have caught him at any moment. Almost as if what he was doing, having breakfast in the morning with milk and cereals, as every teenager in the world did, was wrong.

The first spoonful he sent down was as slow as any other movement. But when the lips, the tongue, and above all the boy's stomach felt the taste of food, Satin began to put as much stuff into his mouth as possible, until the milk began to run down his chin.

Theon frowned, approached the boy and took the bowl from his hands: "Hey, hey, not like that!" He exclaimed.

Satin looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, his mouth still full of food. Theon kept the bowl well away from the boy: "Do it more slowly." He told him.

Satin then began to chew slowly, and Theon waited until he had swallowed the food in his mouth, before offering him the bowl again: "Christ, when was the last time you ate?"

Satin dipped the spoon in the milk again: "F-four days, sir" he replied, starting to eat again, this time slowly.

Theon leaned against the table, staying close to the boy: "And what was the last thing you ate?"

In the brothels he frequented, they often brought food to eat, if a customer desired it. They always had a lot of fruit. Theon had never thought about what it must be like to live on the street: it was certainly not the whores who gave you fruit once their work was done. It was the exact opposite: if the whores were lucky, maybe someone would have given them something to eat, or enough money for a decent dinner.

Satin shrugged, looking intently at the bowl with the milk: “A-a sandwich maybe? With tuna"

Ugh, Theon hated tuna. Thank god he wasn't a slut.

"Jesus ..." he muttered.

Satin looked at him, straight in the eyes; his were shy, again in front of a courtesy and not a threat, but they were trying to gain courage.

The boy cleared his throat: "Can I have some water, please?"He asked.

Theon nodded absently and headed for the fridge: "Would you like some juice?"

"Y-yes, thank you," replied the boy.

Theon took the orange juice carton and poured some into a glass taken from the cupboard, then placed in front of the boy. Satin drank it all almost in one gulp. Theon said nothing to him, he had already done it once, if he choked it would be his business. But he didn’t choke: the boy only needed a little time to catch his breath, because he had finished everything too quickly.

Theon grabbed the bowl: he was about to throw it in the sink, perhaps he would have called Asha to implore her to clean something during his absence, but decided, by pure chance, to make yet another gesture of charity: "Do you want some more?"

Satin shook his head: "No, I'm fine like this"

It was evident that he would eat again and again and again.But he said no, and so it would have been: Theon had no intention of reading his mind as well now. He had already done too much. However...

"It’s going to be a long trip, you know?" He placed the bowl in the sink carelessly, gritting his teeth when he heard the sound of the ceramic that risked breaking in the abrupt contact with the cups and dirty dishes.

Satin shook his head again stubbornly: "You have already done too much for someone who pays you so little... When are we leaving?"

Good, he had changed the subject: another plus sign that meant that yes, he was still hungry, but he was too afraid to admit it. Still, it was just the thought of having to ask someone for food (and actually getting something to eat) that tormented him, not having to ask a _mercenary_ for food. Theon's work, Theon himself, didn't bother him at all.

But who cares, it wasn't his business.

With a quick gesture, Theon cracked the bones of his neck: "Now".

Their mission had just begun. 

* * *

"I told you that ..." Robb nearly winced at that hiss. His grip around the spatula tightened, and he barely managed not to drop the pancake he was trying to turn on the ground. He turned to his brother, bringing his forefinger to his mouth: "Shh"

Jon rolled his eyes: he had unkempt hair, but he was already dressed and his suitcase was already in the living room, Robb could see it through the open kitchen door.

His brother was looking at him with his typical annoyed expression, the one Robb was afraid of at first: Jon's eyes were so gray they seemed black, and they stared at you so intensely that they almost seemed to be able to devour your soul. Years later, however, Robb had learned to get used to it, and especially now that he was the highest authority in that house, he no longer had to be intimidated by a pair of angry eyes. So he remained impassive while Jon continued to stare at him, asking him, "Why don't you want to be helped?"

Robb sighed: it wasn't that he _didn't want_ to be helped. He simply didn't need it. Jon was still a kid, Robb was an adult, and having to do it alone also meant having to do it for his younger brothers. And then he hadn't been able to sleep at all that night, at the thought of how stupid what they were doing was: they were endangering the lives of Bran and Rickon, who were just two children. And if sometimes Robb thought it wasn't fair that he and Jon had managed to survive the explosion, as often he _thanked God_ they had survived the explosion, otherwise what would have happened to the two children? Robb was almost sure that Osha would have taken care of them, but he couldn't even imagine how hard it would be to deal with losing his whole family. If nothing else, Robb and Jon were there. And Jon was already living a fairly dangerous life with his persistent refusal to use a weapon: at least at home, after having risked dying constantly on a mission, he had to stay calm and without responsibility and let Robb do everything.

"Did you pack up?" The red-haired boy radically changed the subject: there was no need to argue, not with the most important and at the same time dangerous mission of their life about to begin.

Jon shrugged: "Of course I did"

“Good: can you go and wake Bran and Rickon then?"

The boy continued to stare at his older brother for a while, whether or not to continue the discussion. Then, to Robb's delight, he rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yes ... did you pack Rickon’s bag?"

Robb nodded, "Yes, last night. You have no idea how much of a heavy sleeper that little boy is.”

Jon made a tired grimace: "Good for him"

Jon was not one of those who slept much, here. With the "job" they had, both Robb and Jon tended to sleep with one eye open, a gun in their drawer and a knife under the pillow.Well, only Robb had these last two things, actually.

The redhead decided not to reopen the "you are still in time to have a normal life" topic, because it was not the case: they had decided that if the mission had been successful they would have really started, a normal life.But that was what worried Robb, that if. There was no certainty that they would win, there was nothing to assure them that they would return home and that they could resign, have a nice summer and then yes, look for a new home, a new job, a public school to attend. Living a normal life seemed so difficult in the eyes of those who, from an early age, did the job that Robb did.

And then there was Rickon, who was still too young to understand what Robb and Jon's real job was. They didn't keep it from him, they just omitted the most brutal parts, such as killings and all the risks they ran, but for the child they were a bit like superheroes. And there was also no fear that Rickon would tell someone about it, because Rickon didn’t have any friends, besides Bran.

But he looked at the work of his brothers as a heroic gesture, which under certain points of view could also be (they worked to defuse bombs and stop assassins, after all), and every night he slept peacefully, because he was young, he was young and did not know that his brothers had a tremendous fear that something might happen to him someday. Indeed, he hoped to join them one day: they all had codenames, only Littlefinger addressed them using their real name, because he was the only one who knew them. Robb was the Young Wolf, Jon was the White Wolf, Bran was the Winged Wolf. Rickon insisted on being called the Wild Wolf, but Robb had always addressed him with the nickname "The Wolf Cub". Over time, his brothers and his parents had also begun to refer to the little one at home that way. Now Robb could only hope that Rickon would remain The Wolf Cub forever and that he would never become the Wild Wolf.

He poured another circle of pancake dough into the pan: "Someone had to have that privilege."

He saw Jon shrug out of the corner of his eye: "I would have preferred it if _I_ had it"

Even Robb would have preferred it to have been his privilege.

"We can always fix that” he tried to keep the conversation in a positive tone, implying that once finished everything he could sleep soundly, because they would no longer have to start risking their lives.

But Jon didn't seem convinced by those words: "I hope so" he answered only. Then, he reached out to take some raspberries from the fruit plate that Robb had put on the table: "What time is the flight?"

"At eight" Robb slid yet another pancake to the top of the pile and put it all on the table. Booking a flight at the last minute was not easy, but thank god it was summer and thank god it was Dorne, the tourists’ favorite state: there were flights every hour.

"And what time will we be in Sunspear?" Jon then asked.

Robb shrugged: it would have been a long journey, even if they had arrived at a decent hour they would still have been too tired.

"In time for dinner," he replied.

Jon nodded absently: "First class?"

"As long as we can afford it, let's use it, don't you agree?"Robb ran a hand through his red curls: Littlefinger usually left him a jet for the departure and, when the mission was too long Bran sent them a helicopter. They rarely took the plane, usually when they had to follow a moving target. It would have been the first time that Rickon would have taken the plane, and Robb hoped he wasn't too scared: he didn't go out often, perhaps he wouldn't have liked the plane. And then, if all went well, who knows when they could get on a plane again.

Jon put another handful of raspberries into his mouth: "I’m sitting by the window," he said.

Robb rolled his eyes: "But you constantly get up to go to the bathroom!" He protested.

He saw Jon grin slightly, amused: "I promise you that every time I get up to go to the bathroom I will also stop to check on the boys, so you don't have to get up"

Robb stood looking at his brother with furrowed eyebrows, before replying: "Um, deal."

Jon grabbed yet another raspberry then finally walked towards the stairs: "I'm going to wake the kids up."

"Thank you."Echoed Robb.When Bran and Rickon joined him, nobody spoke much: the mission would be their main topic of conversation, but nobody wanted to talk about it in front of a four year old boy whose only concern at the time was to bite his pancake withoutdropping the fruit he put on it.

Bran did not eat much, Robb tried to tell him that it would be a long journey and it was better to keep in strength, but the boy seemed too troubled to finish his breakfast.

Jon was silent, as usual: his gray eyes turned here and there, peering carefully at his brothers, but he didn't dare open his mouth. Most likely he was thinking of something, something that worried him, judging by the slight curl of his eyebrows.

Rickon, on the other hand, was only feeling a little weird for waking up too early: Robb was forced to carry him in his arms to the car, with Jon gently taking his suitcase, while his older brother was busy keeping his with one hand and to support the little brother with the other.

"Why do we have to go away?" Little Rickon asked, while Robb put him in the seat and fastened his belt. He felt a strange sensation squeezing his stomach: Rickon did not get into the car often, so he was not used to too long journeys. As a result, he would have suffered from car sickness. And that wasn't exactly the morning to face such a thing.

But Robb tried not to reveal any of his concerns, and stroked the auburn hair of the boy: "We’re taking a little vacation, sweetheart"

"You'll see it's going to be fun," Jon indulged, putting the suitcases in the trunk.Robb could not completely deduce if there was a slight hint of irony in his words: surely Jon did not think that their 'vacation' would be fun, but he knew that there was no point in making irony in front of the child.

The two brothers exchanged a look: Jon answered Robb's questioning eyes with a simple shrug that left the older even more confused. There was nothing left for Robb to do but turn again to the little boy of the family: "Why don't you sleep a little? I'll wake you up when we get to the airport"

He felt relieved when the boy immediately closed his eyes: if he had slept, he would not have felt any car sickness.

"Robb, do you even remember how to drive?" It was Bran's words as soon as Robb had settled into the driver's seat, hands firmly on the wheel.

The red haired man glanced at the boy from the rear view mirror: "Hey! I did have to drive during some missions!”

Not very often, but it had happened. Once he, Jon, Arya and Sansa had even had to resort to a chase between cars, and it had been a scene worthy of an action movie. Robb was driving, since he was (and continued to be) the only one with a license; Arya had laughed all the time, raising her hands as if she were in a carousel;Sansa had done nothing but yell at Robb to stop moving here and there because she couldn't make up her makeup, and Jon had been silent and had observed everything that was happening before his eyes, as usual. It had been one of their best missions.

Jon got into the car in turn, closing the door with a sharp blow: "Yeah, and I seem to remember _some_ broken mirrors," he added.

Robb rolled his eyes, setting in motion: yes, _that_ had happened too. But anything could happen on a mission, a broken mirror was on the agenda.And then he was good at driving.

"It’s so unfair that I must be treated this way by someone who has my own blood..." he muttered, pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes.

Still from the rearview mirror, he saw Bran leaning his back against the seat and turning towards the window: "Maybe we will really have fun, in Dorne"

Jon sighed, Robb only shrugged his shoulders: they should have had some, as an obligation. Rickon was convinced that it was a vacation, after all.

God, he didn't have to take them with him. Not Bran and Rickon.

Suddenly he remembered that every now and then his mom prayed the night before a mission, begging the gods for everything to be just fine. Now, for the first time in his life, Robb also wanted to do it, to cling to something superior, to believe that his fate was not in his own two hands but in someone more powerful.

"Maybe we could stay there another week, once the mission is completed ..." he suggested, starting to drive to the airport.

* * *

"How‘s he doing?" Robb put away the boring gossip magazine he was reading to look at Jon: already at the airport, Rickon had been difficult to handle. Too many people all in the same place, and a place too big that a curious child like him was well-intentioned to explore. The take-off had frightened him, and now the turmoil was taking place. Jon had gotten up to try to calm him when they both heard him cry from the bedroom just behind them.

"He doesn't like turbulence so much, as you may have guessed," replied the boy, sitting on the bed in their airplane room, next to his brother.

Robb nodded: "Is he sleeping now?"

Jon shook his head slightly, only once: “He is watching Tangled with Bran. Aren’t you going to sleep?"

Several hours had passed since their awakening early in the morning, it was late in the morning and their plane would not take off until late afternoon. Robb could have easily closed his eyes and had a good rest, but he couldn't: he had too many thoughts in his head. They were doing a too dangerous thing, Robb should have gone alone. Why had he accepted?Why had he said yes? Bran and Rickon were to stay home with Osha. Safe. Far from the Red Woman. Jon should have stayed home too, but if it really was impossible to stop him from helping him, then he would certainly have forced him to carry a gun. Or any weapon that would keep him alive for as long as possible.

When he didn't answer his question, Jon frowned his thick dark eyebrows and put a hand on his older brother's shoulder: "Are you okay?"

Robb shook his head slowly: "I shouldn't have let you come"

He saw Jon's jaw tighten tightly: “Still with this story? This is about me as much as it is about you."

"But it's not about the children," he retorted immediately.

Jon looked around: there were only the two of them in the small room of the plane, but he had to be careful to moderate his tone of voice: if you could hear Rickon's tears, you could also hear his screams.

The boy took a deep breath, his hands were shaking, it also happened to Arya when she tried with all her might not to scream. Unlike his sister, however, Jon almost always succeeded in his intent: "Then we should have said it to Littlefinger instead of doing everything in secret: at least he would have prepared the mission for us"

Robb made a face that he hoped would show all his disagreement: "He would never have agreed to let us leave, and you know it"

Littlefinger was not one who accepted volunteers regarding a mission, here. Least of all if the objectives of that mission were people the spies knew. Robb still didn't know whether or not to trust him: his mom trusted him, it could be said they were almost friends, so much that sometimes, Robb had even suspected that she might have known his real name, but his father did not think like her. Ned was colder, detached, and was careful not to talk too much to the boss. Two conflicting reactions and opinions, and Robb did not know which way to go. But the more time passed, the more steps he made towards the same thought as his father.

Jon snorted, “So what was the best thing? Have Bran and Rickon come with us or leave them at home without being able to protect them when Littlefinger finds out what we are doing?"

_No_.

“Because _you know_ he will find out, and you also know that he is not a compassionate man with those whom he considers traitors. Do you remember what happened the last time?"

_Yup_.

"Of course I remember it," said Robb: Littlefinger had made his men cut an alleged traitor’s throat.He had done it in front of the whole analyst department, probably to intimidate them, to warn them of what would have happened to them if they had betrayed the secret association that worked to safeguard the world.

"And we weren't even sure he was a traitor." Jon whispered.

"If the kids are with us we can pass it off as a coincidence, at least."

Of course, a coincidence: hey boss, do you know that while we were on vacation we found the person responsible for the death of our family and we killed her? No, there was nothing planned.

The truth was that they were acting inattentively, and this was not going well. The thirst for revenge was too great, but it was already getting them into trouble.

“Now that I think about it, why are we doing such a risky thing? We kill her and then?Littlefinger kills us?What a nice revenge,” continued the teenager.

"Littlefinger won't kill us," Robb replied immediately, perhaps too quickly to be convincing. Not surprisingly, Jon's left eyebrow raised in a disturbing way, while the corners of his mouth poured down: "And why shouldn't he?"

Yeah, why shouldn't he?He could do it, if only he wanted to.But that was not the right attitude: there was no going back now, it would have been impossible to be so close and do nothing. And then, what if by chance the Red Woman had noticed them? She would take advantage of their peaceful vacation to catch them off guard and finish what she had failed to accomplish a year earlier. So now they had to finish what they were about to start. But it was perhaps the most difficult and important mission of their lives, and they would not have gone anywhere without the right attitude: thinking that Littlefinger could have killed them, did not help at all.

So Robb shrugged and replied, "Because he needs us: do you know how many times he could have accused _you_ of treason?Like the time you decided to let that red-haired girl live despite her trying to kill mom."

Two years earlier, Jon was fourteen and Arya had just joined the family business, they had to deal with the "Wildlings", a large group of fanatics who threatened to kill the mayor of their city. They knew how to use weapons: they had been the first and so far the only ones they had encountered to be equipped with kids capable of using a gun.

Among them was a girl of Jon's age, with a huge mass of red hair disheveled on her head. She was one of the strongest.Not only among the kids, but among all her people. Jon had taken care of her, more or less: he refused to use weapons, and he ended up getting caught. He was held hostage for about two days before his family saved him. In those two days, Jon claimed to have known the girl thoroughly and, once the Wildlings were defeated, he implored their father not to kill her. Probably because that girl had been the first girl Jon had ever seen besides Osha, her mother, and Arya and Sansa. Maybe he thought she was pretty, maybe he liked her.If only he had a normal life, Jon could have really had a girlfriend.

But the teenager shook his head, looking down, while a small vein formed in the middle of his forehead: "She didn't deserve to die: she had grown up, in that place, it wasn't her choice"

"Do you think ours was?" Robb replied.

Jon rolled his eyes, dark and accusing: "Of course it was!"He exclaimed.

"Choosing between a life in quarantine without seeing your parents for weeks or fighting alongside them seems like a choice to you?" This time it was Robb who raised an eyebrow: they had had no ‘choice’. Their father would train them to learn how to defend themselves even if they didn't want to join him and his mom on a mission. And when your family is the only thing you have, because you never leave the house, you end up considering your parents your heroes. And since your parents are always away "for work", working with them seems like the most beautiful thing in the world. Then you realize that it may not be like this, but you end up getting used to it.Because you can get used to everything, as long as you are with your family.

"Littlefinger could kill us anyway: we are neither mom nor Sansa," Jon snapped.

No, he couldn't blame him for that: they weren't Mom and Sansa. Littlefinger was behaving more and more kindly with mom and Sansa, and this was another of the reasons why Robb continued to follow in his father's footsteps and to harbor more and more contempt for his boss, contempt that he should have contained anyway.Especially at that moment, that day.

He reached out, messed up Jon's hair and then moved a lock of hair behind his ear: "We'll make sure he doesn't know then, okay? He can't suspect anything, he'll believe we’re on holiday, like you said"

And if it was necessary to think pink, then it was necessary to think that if they had been able to kill the Red Woman, they would also have been able to get rid of Littlefinger.

* * *

"Fasten your seat belt." Theon instructed Satin in a dry and firm tone. The boy did as he was told, but his dark eyes turned from one part of the car to the other, yet they seemed to be looking at something that was beyond the car, beyond reality.As if millions of memories were plaguing him right then. No wonder, however, that Satin was troubled: what kind of memories related to a car could a prostitute ever have?Perhaps he was imagining the way from the sidewalk where he had been spotted to a filthy motel, or a filthy parking lot;perhaps some particular client had come to his mind. God, maybe even Asha had come to his mind.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked the boy, as they left the driveway of the Greyjoy house and plunged into the deserted street.

Satin shrugged, keeping his dark eyes fixed on an indefinite point in front of him: "Nothing, it’s just that ... your car smells good, here"

Well, of course it smelled good. Theon was not one of those old sadistic unemployed perverts who lived off junk food and then left sandwich papers to mold on top and under their car seats for months. Theon owned a fucking Mustang. Like hell he would have kept it dirty, it was the thing he cared more about immediately after his bike.

But above all, what kind of answer was that?

"Okay, listen to me: we have a long journey ahead, and I'm not going to spend it listening to your disturbing sentences, okay?" He made it clear.

Satin sighed slightly, almost disappointed, and whispered a docile: "I'm sorry"

"And stop saying I'm fucking sorry for everything!" Theon resisted the temptation to throw a punch at the wheel: it seemed as if the words ‘sorry’ were the only things he was able to say. Which was strange, considering that he had no problem with being naked in front of you and trying to seduce you. God, kids. He hated them.

With an uncertain gesture, Satin removed the Rolex that Theon had gave him the day before from his wrist: "Y-your ..."

Theon raised a hand, his eyes fixed on the road: "Keep it, I don't care, for now"

Satin then turned the object over in his hands: it had to be yes and no the most expensive thing he had ever touched in his life. Still looking at the object, Satin's lips parted slightly, making a very small pop: "Thanks again for breakfast, anyway. I know you did it because you _had to,_ but it was a long time since ..."

"How did it happen?" Theon interrupted him: he didn't want to be treated like the hero on duty just because he had put a bowl of milk to boil. Theon was not a good person: he could kill good people if he was paid enough. Thus, it was better to change the subject and focus on their mission.

"What?" Satin asked, frowning.

Theon rolled his eyes: "What do you think?! How did they kill your mom?"

Satin jumped: because of the naturalness with which Theon had pronounced his words, certainly. But for Theon talking about people who got killed was natural, he had stopped being sensitive years ago, and that kid just had to learn to get used to it.But Satin was a kid who quickly adapted, it seemed, and this was a quality that Theon appreciated, after all. He started talking after a few seconds: "We were going home and... these two stopped us."

Which wasn't supposed to be new for two whores.

"We thought it was a robbery, it happens all the time."In fact, the boy said.Then he frowned: "Only that instead of taking the money they... shot her and left me alive"

Theon gave him a quick glance, before concentrating again on the road: "Do you remember how they were like?"

Satin shrugged: "They had their faces covered, they were dressed in black"

"Height, build?I have to get an idea of who I'm going to kill, kid"

Maybe even Asha would have told him to be a little more delicate.But only because she had a soft spot for Satin and Theon had to stop thinking about it because otherwise he would have vomited his breakfast on the wheel and on his pants. And he didn't want it to happen.

Satin ran a hand through his hair, resting his elbow against the car door and continuing to observe the landscape in front of him: “The one who shot mom was small and thin. I could have sworn they were a kid.”

Theon nodded: "The other one?"

“I didn't pay much attention to it. But I think they were shorter than I was.Why are you so angry with the Red Woman?"

Theon gritted his teeth: it wasn't something he wanted to talk about.And if that little shit thought he could change the subject the same way Theon did and win it, he was very wrong.

"This is none of your business," he replied dryly.

"But you just..."

“I need to know who I have to kill, kid.But who I _want_ to kill and why doesn't concern you” the annoyance grew along his body at the speed of light: that brat was not to be interested in any way in his private life, he did not have to ask questions about the life of a person who could have killed him at any moment, if he wished.

"Sorry"

Theon grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, squeezing until it hurt: it was early morning, in summer, the road was deserted.Fortunately.Because it would not have been a good show for others to see Theon nailing abruptly, stopping in the middle of the street, taking the gun out of his pocket and pointing it at the boy's head.

"Say that again."He challenged him.

"Say you're sorry again and I'll open your head in two."

Nothing. Nothing at all. No reaction. The brat's eyes, which filled with tears when someone did something nice for him, were now devoid of any emotion. Well, maybe there was an emotion, Theon could see it, even if with difficulty: boredom.He was bored. He had a gun pointed at him and was _bored_.

"Why doesn't it scare you?!" Theon blurted out. But Satin did not move an inch, and this time the boredom within his eyes seemed to be accentuating: "What exactly should scare me?"

Theon's eyes widened: as if the answer wasn't already obvious. God, he couldn't stand kids.

“I am a mercenary. I pointed a gun at you. Twice if we want to count yesterday too. I could kill you even if you preferred cats over dogs and yet you still showered in my house and ate at my table. Why?"

The brat shrugged: "I'm a slut, Theon"

"Don't call me Theon" the mercenary brought the gun even closer to the boy's forehead, hoping somehow to see him frightened, but nothing, even that didn't work. Satin rolled his eyes: "What should I call you then?Aren't you 'my brother about to move to another continent'?"

That boy seriously had the courage to make irony. Theon would almost have shot him for real: what beautiful last words, don't you think? A stupid phrase for a stupid death.Theon could have pulled the trigger and have one less problem. Except that he wouldn't have had one less problem: first of all, the shot would have been heard all along the avenue, and Theon would have had a body to get rid of in the middle of the morning. But most important of all, if he shot him, he would get his Mustang dirty. And that was out of the question.

The Kraken sighed, “Okay then, call me Theon.But explain"

Not even Theon was afraid of finding himself face to face with the barrel of a gun: but this was because with the work he did, such a thing was routine. Even for Satin it was routine, of course, but Theon had his gun near, Theon knew how to defend himself and how to kill someone. That boy would have fallen if only he had pushed him with a finger: how could he not be afraid?

Satin smiled contemptuously, shaking his head slightly: "Do you think nobody ever pointed a gun at me?" He begun.

"Those who don't want to pay do it all the time, and believe me I know when someone is willing to shoot me and _you aren’t._ Nobody ever is."he turned around.He turned to the windshield, as if the loaded gun were not in front of him.

Theon raised an eyebrow: "Never?"

"No. You do it just to scare me." The brat replied.

“If I try to rebel they fire a shot near me to tell me to stay still, but they don't even touch me with that thing. They don't even pull the pin, sometimes."He looked at the gun for the first time: there was no fear in his eyes, only disgust.Theon figured he was connecting the gun (which never fired) to all the things those people did to him. Things that were not meant to be beautiful.

"If I do something I shouldn't do, they beat me, sometimes they even have knives and they actually use them, but they have no idea how to use a gun," he continued.

"But I have," said Theon, but his outstretched arm was starting to hurt, and he was one step away from lowering the weapon.

Satin shrugged: "If you really wanted to kill me you would have done it last night, in Oldtown." He answered simply.

"Here all of sudden it would be a hindrance to get rid of my body: you would have shot me in some alleys because, as you well know by now, nobody cares about dead prostitutes."

Well, he was absolutely right: if he wanted to kill him, Theon would certainly have thought twice before doing it in daylight, in a populated neighborhood. And it was also true that, especially in Oldtown, nobody cared about dead prostitutes: it was enough to see what had happened with his mother, who died three weeks ago and was already forgotten after a couple of days because nobody cared about a whore.Nobody would care about a dead baby whore then.

Theon slowly lowered the gun and put it back in his pocket, finally starting to drive again: "I saw you have a bruise on your abdomen."He said, staring at the empty road ahead.

"What did you do to get it?" Theon could very well imagine it: if he wanted to slap him for his non-expressiveness in front of a gun, this could only mean that with those who didn't have a gun, Satin behaved like a real pain in the ass. A comment on their length, on poor sex, or yes, maybe non-expressiveness came out even when he got fucked, and not everyone liked that. There were millions of reasons why someone could have beaten that boy in the middle of his 'work shift'. And incredibly, Theon was curious to know which one it was.

But Satin's sorry sigh made him realize that all his presumptions were just a heap of mistakes: "I didn't do anything to him, it's just that ... some like to do it."He replied in a low voice.

Theon frowned: "Do what?"

Satin ran a trembling hand through the dark curls, which were now drying: "Hurt me. Even when I behave "

Theon had slowed down his driving: he had always liked to go beyond the speed limit, with the radio blaring and the windows open, when he could not use his motorbike.But today there was no need to do this: he didn't even know what to say to him.He couldn't tell him that he was sorry, because it wasn't like that, but it wasn't something that made him laugh anyway. It was bad things, those that happened to that boy, but Theon had no intention of comforting him. However, unlike how it usually happened, this time he didn't feel able to make fun of him.

"And do you like it when they do this to you?" He therefore asked him, not knowing what else to say, but acknowledging that he had to say something.

"I know some people who..." liked so many weird things, things that often even Theon himself refused to do. Maybe Satin was like them too. But the boy shook his head, and this time there was a very well-defined expression on his face: disgust. Pure disgust. For what he did for a living, for the life that had happened to him. For anything.

"I don't like _anything_ they make me do," he hissed, his words seeming to be treading on his tongue, like a capricious child stomping his foot on the ground. Of course he didn't like anything they made him do: no whore ever liked it that much.Theon knew it, once a boy he had chosen at the brothel had told him that it would have been better to stop considering himself the god of sex only because he was able to make some whore moan, because whores moaned with everyone, because they faked it. The more you made them think you were good, the more times they showed up, he said, and that meant more work, and more work was equal to more money.And more money was equal to more distractions from your job.

Theon did not like that kid, yet he had to admit it, he couldn't help pointing out that he was, in fact, a kid: you don’t beat kids. Satin probably never offered resistance not only because he was too weak to react, but also because he needed to "get distracted from his job".And Satin was only seventeen, and in order not to starve he was forced to submit to the sexual impulses of some perverted old man who would not leave him alone until he left a bruise on his abdomen. And the truth was that it didn't matter that Theon didn't like Satin, he was leading a life he would wish to only a few people. An annoying kid wasn't part of those few people, however.

Theon reached over to Satin's seat, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a half-empty bottle of ointment.He handed it to the kid: “Here: I keep it in there because sometimes I get hurt too. Sometimes I get targets almost as strong as me” like that damned chick who moved like a ninja, there was no wonder why they wanted her out. Asha had had to press a pack of frozen peas on his back for days, and Theon had to stand her while she teased him for as long.

Having to put both hands back on the wheel, Theon did not wait for Satin to grab the jar, and threw it on his lap.

"Thanks," muttered the boy, unbuttoning his Hawaiian blouse and applying the ointment on the hideous bruise.

Theon shrugged: “It’s okay. Does it ever happen that... sometimes you like it?" He asked that question not expecting an answer: it must have been obvious, after all. But Theon was curious: Satin was not the prostitute of a brothel who got paid well, Satin was a kid born in the wrong place. A boy of that age should have had sex to have fun, not for a living.

Satin grimaced with contempt: "I never did it with someone I liked, so no."He turned to Theon, quickly looking him up and down. He smiled: "But I would give you a blowjob anyway, if you asked me"

Theon rolled his eyes and shook his head: once again he wouldn't slap him. That boy better have considered himself lucky.

* * *

When Theon Greyjoy parked the car, Satin jumped: he had never strayed too far from Oldtown, except the motels nearby, but he was sure they had not already arrived at Sunspear.

"Why did we stop?" He asked the mercenary. God, he was in a car with a mercenary. Now that it was really happening, Satin was slowly beginning to realize what he had just done.And he didn't regret it at all: his mom was all he had. And Satin would never, ever accept to continue living that way without first getting his revenge: he would remain a whore until someone killed him as it had happened to his mom, so nobody would ever care about him. As a result, he could do whatever he wanted: even order the murder of a murderer.Besides, Theon wasn't all that bad: he was the kindest person Satin had ever met. He had let him take a shower, lent him his clothes, fed him. God, how good that hot milk was: it seemed a long time since Satin had eaten something hot. Besides, he still could not understand why Theon had accepted to let him go with him: he had paid him very little, and he would have handled his stay at the hotel. The clothes were Theon’s. It was all Theon’s. Yet Satin was now there, en route to Dorne. From what he understood, that Red Woman had done something to Theon's family, and the only reason Satin had been allowed to join him was because the mercenary felt somewhat grateful that he had provided him with a track onher. But he didn't want to add anything else. And Satin, he had to admit, was a little curious.

Theon removed the keys from the car, unbuckled his belt and got out.He started to close the door, but took the opportunity to tell Satin to hurry up: "Come down: we have to do a couple of things."

Satin was confused: he didn't like that place. It was a battered grayish house, lost in the middle of nowhere. He could hear the sound of the music from outside, a noise that became more deafening with each step.

"What place is it?" He asked Theon as they entered the house: the door, he noticed, was broken where the handle should have been, so it was accessible to everyone.

Theon didn't even bother to look him in the eye: "A place that will make us something useful." he answered simply.

They went up the stairs. The house stank, pieces of old plaster were peeling off the wall. Nothing so different from all the motels in which Satin had worked or his old house, but there was something strange in all this.He had a bad feeling.And there was a particular smell in the air, a familiar smell, a smell that Satin knew but could not remember who or what it belonged to. A smell of... coffee mixed with smoke. And when they arrived in the small living room, Satin understood who the smell belonged to: he was sitting at a round table, together with three other people, with a girl in his lap and the electronic cigarette (responsible for the smell) between his fingers.Satin would have recognized him everywhere, he had been one of his worst customers: the hooked nose, black hair and beard, one brown eye and the other all black, because it was fake. Memories began to run wild in Satin's head, and for a moment it was as if he had felt all the pain he had felt a year before, when he had met that man for the first time.The effort that afterwards he had to make even to try and widen his thighs a little, even just to sit down.The pain in his throat because that Other had tightened too hard without realizing it, cause he was too into his moment of bliss with a street whore. It had taken him days to get his yelling out his head: "you're just a slut, my slut, a cute slut, but you're just a huge old slut" and other insults.Apparently for that man Satin sucked, he was just a slimy little boy with a snot on his nose, pathetic, dull, useless, born only to be taken from behind.And Satin had endured and slowly stopped thinking about it.But now there he was. And Theon Greyjoy was getting closer and closer to him.

"Hey, Uncle Euron." He called him.Satin feared for a moment that he was going to pass out: he was his uncle. That man was his uncle. Satin had previously had sex with two members of the family of the mercenary who would find and kill his mother's killer. Well, after all, Theon also had his "boys and girls", as he said. It had to be their family tradition or, more likely, they all had it in their DNA.

Euron turned to the two boys. His eyes shone with interest when they settled on Satin, and he felt his guts twisted, and suddenly he needed to sit down.

"Look who's there: the Kraken and... a child. A very pretty one, if I can add." Euron winked at him.

Theon rolled his eyes with a bored grimace: "Leave the 'child' alone and look at me: we need a fake ID."

Euron only looked at his nephew for a moment, then looked back at Satin. He didn't seem to remember him, and Satin was grateful for that, but he was afraid that looking at him for so long he would end up remembering who he was.

"For the little one, I guess."Euron said, a broad smirk on the face turned only and exclusively to the teenager, who looked down.

"Yes, for the little one." Theon Greyjoy replied.

Euron make the woman get up from his knees, and approached the boy, always with a smile on his lips. With two fingers, he grabbed his chin firmly to look at him better. Satin held his breath and tried not to close his eyes so as not to appear too frightened: a year had passed, perhaps more, but that man's grip was always strong and strict.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" Euron asked him, in a whisper that tried as hard as possible to appear sensual.The truth was that few times Satin had been so happy that he never saw the usual customer again.

Thank goodness, Theon took his uncle by the arm and pulled him abruptly away from him: "Nobody cares where you've seen him, so do your job and that's it."

Euron rolled his eyes, still looking at Satin. It almost seemed like he was saying ‘oh but how boring this guy is, don't you think?’ as if Satin was a small child.

"Alright then." He declared, then with a nod of his head motioned the teenager to go after him: "Follow me, sweetie."

Satin remained still: he would not have taken any path that would have led him to be alone with that man. Theon urged him to go forward with a slight push on the back. Satin looked at him, pleading with his eyes: don't let me go alone. Theon could not read his mind, yet he seemed to understand. Or, more likely, letting him go alone was not his intention: he took him by the arm and personally escorted him to the next room, a small office with a table where a printer connected to a computer was placed, a little further on there was a pile of empty cards. Euron was sitting across the table. Still smirking sensually to Satin, he pointed to the chair placed in front of the white wall, the only clean wall in the whole house.

"Sit down there." he said. Satin did it reluctantly, without ever taking his eyes off the mercenary's uncle: he didn't want to look at him, but he was afraid that if he got distracted even a second he would find himself back in his room, with his clothes torn on the ground and his face pressed against the pillow, the latter wet by his tears and deafened by his cries of pain, while Euron was busy to make that moment of Satin's life a total hell.

The mercenary's uncle winked at him: "Show me a smile, sugar"

No, he couldn't do that. He would never have succeeded: he would have passed out, he would have started to cry, he would have had a panic attack, he would have run away and returned to Oldtown with his own two legs, these were all things he could have done. But he would never, ever be able to smile.

Theon grunted, and ran a hand over his face, exhausted.This time it was his hands that clawed around Satin's chin: "Hey." The mercenary said in a whisper.

“It's just a damned photograph: try to calm down. You decided to join me." His tone of voice was annoyed, tired, unnerved. But his eyes told more: they had understood that something was wrong, that the fear that Satin felt towards his uncle could not be accidental.

Satin looked at those eyes for a long time, the eyes of the only person who had shown himself kind to him without demanding anything in return. Here, he would have satisfied him. He would not smile, but would try to relax to appear calm and peaceful for at least thirty seconds. Just enough time to take a photo. He barely succeeded: after Euron took the photo, Satin hunched over, still sitting on the chair and put his hands in his hair, with Euron's fingers on the keyboard as background. It made a violent, deafening noise: sure enough, Euron was careless with people, let alone with objects.

"Do you also do teamwork now, Theon?"He said suddenly.

"I would do teamwork with him too, I can’t blame you" another wink. Another retching.

"Too bad you just have to do one thing now," retorted Theon.

Euron rolled his eyes, and typed something else on the keyboard. Then, for the umpteenth time, he turned to Satin: "What name should I write, sweet thing?"

The boy felt the knot in his throat suffocate him: he couldn't tell him his name, he would have remembered him, otherwise.He had called him sweet thing even the first time they met: 'what's your name, sweet thing? Oh, a docile name for a docile whore.'Satin had to admit it, the mere fact that he used the word 'sweet' made him believe that it would not be so bad to have sex with him. He had tried to ignore the slight shiver that ran down his back every time the man opened his mouth, but in the end it was that thrill that was right: closed the bedroom door behind him, Euron had shown himself for what he really was. A beast. Fierce. And his prey was Satin.

He tried to open his mouth: "S-s..."

Nothing, he couldn't. He was too afraid that he would recognize him and... certainly he couldn't do anything to him there.Theon would have helped him, he would certainly have done it: certainly not because he would have been sorry for him, but because he had no time to waste. But Satin wouldn't care: whatever his motivations were, help was help.

"Satin Pyke" Theon replied in his place. And as Satin had feared, something seemed to light up inside Euron's head, making sure that he remembered everything. And at that point his smile was even more disturbing, even wider.

“Oh that's where I saw you then: you're the youngest whore in Oldtown. How could I forget your pretty face?" The man chuckled.

Satin did his best not to shiver: he was terrified of having to relive everything, he didn’t want that, once the mission was over and once he returned to the streets of Oldtown, Euron the mercenary's uncle came to pay him another visit. As far as he was concerned, the mission could have lasted forever.Because Satin had had enough of his "job".

Theon snorted absently, and feigned a puke: "Probably because you fuck seven people a day, Uncle Euron. Now do what you have to do.”

This seemed to silence the man. Euron did his job: he asked Satin a few more questions, wrote something on the computer and then printed a brand new fake ID card. Satin, born on March 21st. Those were the only real things written on the identity card.

When finally Theon, with two fingers, motioned for him to follow him, Satin rose abruptly from the chair on which he had been sitting all the time: he no longer wanted to be there. He wanted to go anywhere. But not there.

Euron ‘excused’ him with a caress on his back that fell just above his bottom.Satin held his breath until that hand was detached from his body: he did not believe that the man was capable of making such delicate gestures, but he knew that this had certainly been a more unique than rare occasion. If he saw him again, Euron would have been the same violent ape that had been the first time.

Satin passed Theon on the way to the car: he walked in front of him, going down the stairs at a brisk pace. The warm June air hit him in the face, but Satin couldn't have been happier to be outside that house: he hated his job.He hated his customers.He wanted to quit, quit.He was only seventeen, fuck, he wanted to go to school.He would have done anything just to be able to _go to school._

He started to open the car door. It didn't work.

"Hey." Theon called out to him in a slightly bored voice.

Satin turned to him: he had his arms crossed and his expression perfectly matched his voice.

"What?" The boy said, annoyed: it was the least suitable time to speak.

The mercenary shrugged: "A gun to your head doesn’t scare you but my uncle does, apparently."

Of course he was afraid of his uncle. All the guns he'd found aimed at his head had never fired. Euron's 'gun' did other things instead. Worse things.

"I mean, he..." he began: he didn't want to give him an explanation, but he felt indebted. Mercenary, horrible person, murderer, Theon could have been all that, but he had helped Satin. And he would have done whatever he said.But it was difficult to come up with the right words.

"What did he do to you?"The mercenary continued.

"I know he's a dick but... he doesn't seem like one of those who likes to hurt his whores"

_Well, it depends on what you mean by 'hurt'._ _Maybe he doesn't hit but it hurts anyway._

“No, but he likes to remind them of who they are.He exaggerates, I must say." Satin admitted. Then he added: “And he couldn’t care less about using a condom or lube. He’s one of those. Do you use condoms when you enter a brothel?"

It was as if the whole body of the mercenary had snapped back, clearly not expecting such a personal question. Well, but Satin had to know, right?Just as Theon said earlier, 'I have to know who I have to kill', Satin had to know who he was going to have sex with. Because sooner or later he would have had sex with him: an extra Greyjoy added to the list would have changed nothing by now. And then, Theon would end up asking him for something in return: a wank, a blowjob, a fuck, a spanking. Something that would eventually turn him on and then cum. It wouldn't have made sense otherwise.It just wouldn't have made sense.

Theon raised an eyebrow: "I do? Almost always. But I never come inside anyone. And I certainly use lube"

Maybe that meant nothing to Theon. But for Satin it meant a lot, really a lot.

“Then I like you more than him," he muttered.

Theon stared at him carefully for a second, as if trying to get something out of his mouth. Then he pulled out the keys to the Mustang: “Come on, get in the car. We have to stop somewhere else,” he announced.

Satin frowned: "Where?" he asked, taking his seat and fastening his belt.

Theon ran a hand through his black hair, and tried to adjust his bun, now almost completely unraveled, looking at himself in the rear view mirror: "You need a phone, don’t you?"

* * *

"Nice place, huh?"

Jon rolled his eyes at his older brother’s words: the Doran Martell hotel was not a nice place, it was such a beautiful place that it could only have existed in a fairy tale or a legend.It was strange that even them, the Starks, could afford to spend even one night there.

To tell the truth, their room wasn't all that big, but it was surrounded by luxury items. The tv was huge, the biggest Jon had ever seen. It was in the same room as Robb's bedroom, the first thing you saw after entering. It looked a bit like a one room apartment: a large double bed on the right, a table on the left, together with the TV and the sofa. The bathroom was in the room immediately next to the bed.Then there was another room, not far from where the table was located, and that would have been Jon and the boys’ room: there were four bunk beds, dug into the wall;to get there, all you had to do was climb the stairs, built like real stairs attached to the wall, not those typical of normal bunk beds, which risked breaking or falling away.

"I'm on top!" Bran immediately shouted, running to choose his bed.

Robb smiled slightly, opening the door on the wall opposite the bunk beds and revealing another bathroom.

"Is there any news on the Red Woman?"He asked, closing the door and leaning onto it.

Bran pulled his subspecies of phone out of his pocket, a strange tool he had built himself and that probably only he could decipher: "She’s still in the exact same spot as yesterday."

"So she’s near."

Jon shook his head, annoyed: there was a four-year-old boy there with them. Rickon would ask questions, not only because he was a curious boy, like any four-year-old kid should have been, but because he wanted to be included in their conversations. And that kind of conversation wasn't right for him.

So, Jon turned to his little brother and ruffled his hair: "Rickon, would you like to watch TV with me?"

Needless to say, Rickon yelled yes, excited.

Jon smiled, and with a nod of the head he pointed to the door behind the boy: "Well, then go, I'll be right there."

Both Jon and Bran and Robb waited in silence until the boy was far enough. Robb was the first to speak, as soon as they were left alone: "We need weapons."

Jon snorted scornfully: " _You_ need weapons."

Robb shook his head: they had that argument practically every time before a mission.

"I let you come here, but don't think that I will accept to make you face her without protection."

Jon clenched his fists: he didn't need a gun, he would have made it as he always had. A gun would complicate things, it was too late to get used to having it in his pocket.And if the mission was really that dangerous, Jon had to be fully focused, and he couldn't do it while simultaneously trying to remember how to hold weapon.

"Don't fight right now."Bran said, without even looking them in the eye and continuing to type something on his strange phone.

“And anyway, there should be a gun shop a few kilometers away. You can take everything there: I'll take care of blocking the alarm and the cameras. "

Robb nodded, those words were obviously music to his ears: "Nice."

He turned to Jon: "A glock will do just fine for you."

"I told you I don't want it."Again the boy replied for the umpteenth time.

Robb's jaw twitched. _Here it is, now he‘ll scream, I can feel it._ Instead, his older brother took a deep breath, and calmed down as best he could: "You won't use it, okay?" He started.

“But you'll keep it in your pocket in case something happens to me and I can't help you.And I don't want to discuss this yet."

Jon started to open his mouth again, then stopped: it was not the case. he would never have used that gun anyway.

Robb interpreted his silence as an okay, so he clapped his hands and his gaze traveled between his two younger brothers: "Okay, let's change the subject: I want you all to take a shower before dinner."

"Are we eating down at the restaurant?"Bran asked.

Robb nodded: "Yes buddy, we have to look around: it's a fancy hotel, there may be people dealing with her here."

"Okay." Bran imitated his brother's gesture, becoming serious. Jon hoped, and he was sure Robb was hoping for the same thing, that nobody recognized them. Because if they recognized them, they would understand that the two of them weren't the only Starks who survived their attack. And neither Robb nor Jon could let anything happen to Bran and Rickon.

The two older brothers exchanged a half-second long look, little but enough to understand that they were thinking the same thing.

"Do you want to go first?"Robb asked Bran as he ran a hand through his disheveled red curls.

The boy crawled to the stairs of the bed: "Can I use the tub?"

Robb sighed, awkwardly.It was a simple, very simple question, but Jon understood the reason for that reaction: Robb was wondering what their mom or dad would answer that question. Now he was the one in charge, and he could never nor should not have said the words 'doesn’t matter to me' again. Jon watched him look at the time on the watch on his wrist and then make a decision: "I'll give you twenty minutes from now."

"Deal!"Bran exclaimed, running out of bed and taking refuge in the bathroom.

Robb and Jon were left alone in the room.Robb bit his lower lip slightly and shrugged, embarrassed, Jon just approached him and leaned his head against his shoulder: Robb was doing well, and he would have done well in the future.He understood that it was not easy, not at his age and not so suddenly, but Robb was a good brother. And he would have been a good parent too.

The red-haired boy just had time to return the hug that a loud whine from the next room reached their ears: "Jooon!"

The two brothers chuckled slightly and shyly and ended their embrace.

"It will be better to go and keep him some company."Robb said, heading for the other room.

"Rickon! After Bran is done I have to bathe you!"

Jon stayed where he was for another five seconds: well, the mission had started then. All he could do now was hoping that this time there would be a happy ending.

* * *

The tallest building Satin had ever seen was the Oldtown brothel. And that too, from the outside, gave him the feeling of being about to fall apart. But according to what his clients said, those who for once had been able to afford a visit to an expensive prostitute and then returned to the usual convenient prostitutes in the sidewalks, inside it was a beautiful place. Well, now he would have liked to tell all those people who had told him so that they didn't understand anything: the Doran Martell was not a hotel, it was a castle. A very damned castle, the tallest, most expensive and majestic thing Satin had ever seen.

Now he understood what Theon meant when he said that Satin could not show himself in his condition: even now that he was wearing Theon's clothes and even a pair of sunglasses that the mercenary had found under the seat of his car and told him to wear, Satin felt out of place right before he entered. This wasn't a place for him, it wasn't a place for an Oldtown whore, it wasn't a place for a kid who didn't even have the money to buy toothpaste, most of the time he stole it. The people who stayed in that hotel, on the other hand, not only could afford toothpaste, but could even afford to buy all Oldtown, including the brothel.

Theon gave a bright smile to the porter, a guy in his thirties with bright green eyes, and winked at him. While the guy took their bags and asked them to follow him to the reception, Theon kept close enough to Satin to whisper in his ear: "Okay, now our coverage begins: try to get into the part. You are a rich boy, who loves his older brother: if you feel shy with others, it's okay, but try to feel comfortable with me.Understand?"

Satin nodded: it would certainly have taken him some time to get used to it, but he would have been able to feel comfortable around Theon.After all, he could also have been a mercenary who killed people depending on who hired him to do it, and he might have threatened to kill Satin several times, but all the things he had done to him had been kind. The ointment, for example: no rich man would have seen the bruise, it was not something to worry about. Yet Theon had given it to him anyway.

Theon patted his back: "Good."

Still with that smile, Theon wrapped his arm around Satin's neck and quickly walked over to the reception.

"Hi, I have a last minute reservation on behalf on Pyke.Double room,” he said to the girl.

She returned the smile: "Of course: can I see your I.Ds?"She held out a hand.

"Of course," replied Theon, taking his from his wallet.Euron had not made him any false identity cards, so it was to be assumed that he already had one, or more than one. With a look that clearly meant 'hurry up', he invited Satin to do the same. Satin took his wallet (that Theon had lent him, obviosuly), and did the same.

He felt the organs of his body trembling, for fear that someone would notice that those were not true identity cards.But Theon was calm, so peaceful that he himself seemed convinced that those I.Ds were true, so he took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets, so as not to show anyone how much he was trembling.

But the smile on the girl's face did not disappear, and she again handed the identity cards towards Theon's hand: "Second floor, room 207. Your suitcases will be delivered there"

Theon winked at her, she blushed slightly.

"Thank you.Come on, little brother."

Satin once again found Theon's arm around his neck, and his feet moved by themselves wherever the mercenary guided him. They got into an elevator, much more spacious and less squeaky than any of the motels he had stayed at.

Their room was enormous. Larger than all Satin's house, when he still had one.

"Well, pretty isn't it?" Theon joked.It was easy for him to joke: his house was not as luxurious as that hotel, but Theon was one who could afford to spend nights at the Doran Martell Hotel.And if that was the idea he had of 'pretty', who knows what his idea of 'pretty' was about guys. That's why he refused to get a blowjob from him: not because Satin was a minor, but because he wasn't 'pretty'.

Theon patted him on the arm, still smiling: "What is it, you’ve never been to a hotel?"

Satin shrugged: “Rarely. And they weren't like this."

Theon scrounged his neck bone: "I take the bed by the window."He announced, throwing himself heavily on the furthest single bed.

Well, Satin didn't care: he hadn't touched a mattress for three weeks. As soon as he learned of his mother's death, the short man who introduced him to that job had come back and taken the house. Satin would have been satisfied with even a chair.

When he lay down on the free bed, his whole body seemed to scream with joy: the soft mattress, the fresh pillow, the scented sheets. Even his old bed was not that comfortable. To tell the truth, his old bed was one step away from falling apart: it too, like Satin, had met several customers, and at a certain point a wooden leg had ended up giving way. But that bed seemed like, even with all the customers Satin had at once, would not have collapsed. And it was so comfortable that Satin couldn't hold back a contented and relaxed sigh.

Theon chuckled: "What are you doing?"

Theon was a guy who often smiled, Satin had noticed, especially if in the presence of beautiful people, such as the girl at the reception or the porter who had brought their suitcases to their room. But Satin found nothing to laugh about: he didn't blame him, after all he couldn't know how he felt, but he certainly wouldn't laugh with him.

“I've been living on the street for three weeks, Theon.The bed is comfortable..." he replied.

Theon fell silent. Satin did not see his expression, because he was keeping his eyes closed, but he heard him breathe, and the noise of the blankets that moved so slightly made him guess that he had got out of bed.

"Okay, I think I'm going to take a shower." In fact said the mercenary.

"You can get some sleep if you want.Then we’ll go to dinner, downstairs"

"Uh-huh" Satin replied absently, because he was already about to fade into the land of dreams. Perhaps if Theon had told him that he would continue the mission alone and that Satin should have stayed there on that bed, he would not have refused the offer.

* * *

Another thing to know about Satin, the baby whore of the sidewalks of Oldtown: he was a heavy sleeper. Weird to think, it can be assumed that a kid who lived on the street tended to sleep with one eye open, especially after his mother had just been killed. But Satin was not afraid of finding himself with a bullet in his head, so it was to be expected that he would be able to sleep at night. Maybe he didn't sleep much, because he worked mainly at night, but when he could he did. Theon had taken a shower, dried his hair and then lay on the sofa watching TV. He had kept the noise not too loud, because yes, he had to admit it, in a way he would have been sorry to wake him up for no reason. When he began to get late, Theon had to get up and start shaking the boy's shoulder: "Kid. Come on, wake up."

Satin had remained in the exact same position in which he had fallen asleep. Only after Theon had pulled his hair slightly he managed to open his eyes: "What time is it?" he asked, yawning loudly immediately after.

Theon opened his suitcase and took the first shirt that came under his sight: "Time to eat something."

Satin got out of bed, stretched, yawned again. Once at the table he didn't say a word, he stared at the menu all the time with his eyebrows wrinkled, as if he couldn't read what was written on it.

Theon lowered his menu and with the tip of his shoe he gave Satin a very light tap on the knee: "You can choose what you want, you know?"

Satin pouted: "There‘s too much stuff. I don't even know what it tastes like."

Theon shrugged: he couldn't have expected a different answer, actually.

"Take what I take then?" He proposed.

Satin looked at him and nodded shyly: "Okay ..."

Theon grabbed the menu again and quickly reread it: "So let's have some roast tonight, would you like it?"

Satin shrugged: "Yes"

Theon figured he had never eaten roast in his life. With a wave of his hand he called the waiter, another a young man with dark hair. Theon had the feeling that the staff at that hotel had been specially chosen for their good looks. Not that Theon minded, however.

After the waiter took their order, Theon put his elbows on the table and crossed his hands: good. It was time to get to know that kid a little better.

"How old are you, again?"

Actually he remembered it, but he couldn't find another question to start a conversation: if up to a day ago he would have had no trouble asking him how long he had been a whore in the streets of Oldtown, today his very remote kind side had decided to get the better of him. And if for Asha Satin's face made her want to tell him anything, Satin's face prevented Theon from being an asshole. Or at least, he was less so than he was on every other normal day.

"Seventeen," replied the boy.

"Don’t you go to school?"

Satin's eyes, which previously looked straight into Theon's, had now moved on to the tablecloth: "Mom... couldn't afford to pay the school fees"

Well, of course. The real question was: how long did Satin get fucked by strangers? Just the fact that he was already a minor was worrying, but how long had that story been going on? How old was Satin when he started?

"So you lived on the street for three weeks?" Theon asked, as his eyes began to turn between the tables next to them.Almost all of them were occupied by only two people, couples on vacation perhaps? Only one table, not far from Theon's, had four people and... well _hi_.

"Yeah. It was cold. And all the seats were uncomfortable."Satin replied. Or at least, that was probably what he said. Theon wasn't listening to him that much: someone else had caught his full attention.

"Do you see anything that makes you suspicious?" Satin asked him again, when he realized that Theon had his mind and eyes elsewhere.

"No, but I think I just saw the most beautiful guy in the world," replied Theon, narrowing his eyes in a futile attempt to see better: that guy was beautiful. He must have been a few years younger than he was, and Theon already wanted to put his hand between those red curls and pull a little. And those blue eyes, how he would have liked to see them up close, beneath him, while that pink mouth remained open and brought out it most delicious sounds. And then, he was too far to see him, but a guy with red hair and such pale skin should have had freckles too. And Theon loved freckles. On the nose, on the shoulders, god. If it weren't for the three kids at the table with him, Theon would have left Satin where he was and offered the guy a drink.

"How’s he like?" The teen in front of him asked, a light smile on his face.

Theon returned the smile, slightly: “Red, curly hair. I can see the blue of his eyes from here. God, he would be such a good fuck."

Theon could already imagine it: his moans must have been as beautiful as his face. _After dinner I’ll find a way to get him alone and get laid with him._

"Shouldn't you focus on your work?" Satin twisted a finger around one of his curls.

Theon raised an eyebrow, continuing to look at the way that charming stranger drank his glass of wine: "Maybe he has something to do with it, I could approach him. I just have to try to understand if he‘s interested in men too... God, he’s so hot"

Satin chuckled again: "How old are you?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Twenty-eight, why?" Theon's eyebrows curled, and he finally turned his attention to the boy.

Satin gave him a shy smile: "Because you’re acting like a kid my age"

Theon rolled his eyes, but it was true: every now and then, when he was eyeing someone _that_ hot, he couldn't help fantasizing out loud.

He looked back at the guy: he was intent on cleaning the dirty mouth of the little boy next to him. Certainly the younger brother, however similar they were: the boy in front of the youngest boy must have been about ten years old, as far as Theon could deduce, since he could only see his back, while the one in front of the beautiful young man had to be ateen, about Satin’s age. They certainly could not be his children.

The red-haired boy raised his fork to his mouth: Theon watched the pink and plump lips gently closing around the food, and wished they would do the same with something else. Theon was hypnotized: never before had he seen such a handsome guy. And when the eyes of that handsome man met his, making him realize that he was being watched, Theon could not help but give the curly haired guy the best smile he could make from afar. And the blush on the young man’s cheeks was evident even from that distance, just like the blue of his eyes was.

Satin said something.

"Shh ..." Theon silenced him, his eyes still fixed on that attractive stranger.

"What’s going on?" Asked the boy.

Theon leaned his back on the chair, and looked away from the redhead: now that he had caught his attention, it was good that the boy pined a little, so when he made his move he would have been even more excited.

“He smiled and blushed. He's interested." He explained to Satin, adding:"I'll go talk to him later, so I advise you not to go into our room until I send you a text"

_Provided he understood how to read texts, he told himself_. He had bought him a phone, and Satin looked at it as if it were the Swedish instructions of an ikea desk.

"What? And what am I supposed to do?" The boy opened his big dark eyes wide, not expecting such news.

Theon shrugged, regardless: "Go around a bit: there is so much to see here"

Satin snorted: of course, all he wanted to do, of course, was to go back to his room and sleep again. But in Theon’s opinion, he had spoiled that boy too much for that day: he was a little kid who knew how to get by and fit in, he would not have struggled this time either.

"Can't you go to his room?" Satin asked.

Theon immediately shook his head: "He is surrounded by children, we cannot fuck in his room"

Satin frowned, bewildered, and his lips curled upwards: "You like single dads?!"he exclaimed, chuckling.

Theon rolled his eyes: "I don't think they‘re his children, one’s probably around your age."

The same cute waiter from before came back with their orders.

"Thank you very much" Theon winked at him: if he hadn't been able to do anything with the red-haired stranger he would surely have found something to do with him.

Satin was looking at the food with his eyes shining. Theon pointed a finger at him: "Use your fork," he said immediately.

Satin nodded shyly: he was really a quick learner, compared to how he had eaten cereals that morning, he was now much slower and more at ease.

After chewing and swallowing his bite calmly (Theon was about to compliment him), Satin asked Theon a question: "Do you do it often? Having sex when you have to kill someone, I mean"

Theon took another look at the curly haired man, with a mischievous smile: "Much more than you can imagine, so don't worry: I always manage to kill my goals."

It was part of the cover, wasn't it? How could he be taken seriously, otherwise? A hot guy like him who wasn't sleeping with anyone? And then, work aside, it was right to have some fun.

He pointed at Satin's plate with the knife in his hand: "Do you like it?”

Satin nodded: "Yes"

Theon sighed, slipping a hand into his pocket and taking his plastic box in his hands: he had made the mistake of putting condoms in his wallet only once and it would never have happened again. The slap that girl gave him had made his cheek burn for hours, if not days.

He opened the box, took a condom, placed it on the table and handed it to Satin: "Here, in case you wanted to have some fun too, tonight"

By this he did not mean that Satin would have had to work that day as well: he was wishing him to really have fun, with some kid who could certainly have towed to the hotel. If he really had to fuck with a stranger, it might as well be done for fun, not for money. But Satin was not offended nor angry. Instead, he tried to imitate as best he could, even succeeding quite well, one of Theon's smirks: "What if I wanted to be the top tonight instead?"

Theon bit the inside of his cheek so as not to smile, and tried to flush out the rip-off: "You’ll wear it, don’t you think?"

Satin snorted, amused, and passed him the condom again: "I don't know what kind of little worm you have down there, but this is too short for me."

Then he shrugged: "Maybe it's a good thing if you don't want me to give you a blowjob"

Theon's mouth opened without him controlling it: what a little shit. He started to close his mouth, but a spontaneous laugh prevented him: that kid had his flaws, but he also knew how to be funny.

As soon as he had regained his breath, Theon filled a glass of wine and raised it towards that boy he had decided, for some obscure reason, to take with him: "You know, I might be starting to like you.”

* * *

He had always liked guys with long hair. Especially when the hair was dark and the skin was tanned. He had a charming smile, even from a distance. Robb would have liked to see him up close. In front of him, Robb saw a boy's thin shoulders. He was young, more or less the same age as Jon, but he couldn't see him in the face. If only he hadn't been on a mission, if only he hadn't had an assassin to catch, he would have gladly approached that guy and offered him a drink. Well maybe on the first day, some leisure time could have been okay.

"See anything suspicious?" Jon's question caused Robb to return to pay attention to his brothers.

He shook his head: "No"

Jon frowned: "You have been looking at the usual spot for twenty minutes, do you think I haven't seen you?"

"Is there anyone you recognize?" Bran intruded.

Robb shrugged, "No, no, it's just that... nothing" he couldn't tell his ten-year-old brother that he had seen a handsome boy he wanted to get laid with. If it had been Jon, maybe he would have said that out loud: he was sixteen, but he was not a fool, and he was the only one with whom Robb could speak a little more freely.

"Nothing what? Have you seen something or not?" Jon continued.

Robb sighed: "It has nothing to do with what we have to do, here," he admitted.

He watched Jon roll his eyes: "Have you seen a girl?"

"Close enough"

"Have you seen a boy?" Bran made his eyebrows dance in that disturbing way that only he and Sansa could do. And Robb blushed, responding to his little brother by nodding slightly.

Jon slapped his forehead: "Robb, for God's sake"

Robb raised his hands, palms extended: "What is it? It's not like we could do much today: we have to come up with a plan and find... _equipment_ first” he glanced at Rickon, fortunately too busy eating to listen to them.

Jon shook his head: "So what are you doing tonight, are you having fun?"

Robb sighed, but eventually decided to tell the truth: "Yes, and you should too. Not in the same way as me, of course, you‘re too young." he stroked Rickon's copper curls, then looked at his sixteen-year-old brother: "You really could"

After all, Jon was sixteen, he was a pretty boy. He could indulge in some fun too: that place had to be full of boys and girls his age. He was sure that if he wanted, he could have found someone to spend some time with. Well, if Jon hadn't been so serious even with the people he liked.

His sixteen-year-old brother sighed: "Okay, but go to his room: I want to go to bed early tonight"

Bran feigned a retching: "Could you avoid talking about it in front of me and Rickon?"

Well, he wasn't entirely wrong: he was the smartest person Robb had ever known, but he was still a kid.

Robb then nodded, and changed the subject: "Okay.So we’re doing that thing tonight, right? "

They needed weapons, they couldn't face the Red Woman with bare hands: Robb needed his gun. Not only to protect himself, but also to protect Jon, who surely would have thrown his weapon away at the first opportunity, in order to continue doing as he always had.

Rickon turned to him, his big blue eyes looking at him curiously: "What?"

Robb rubbed a hand on his head: "Something that doesn't concern you because you have to sleep"

Rickon started to protest, and Robb didn't know what else to invent to keep him out of that discussion. But Jon interrupted the boy before he could even speak: "Bran, have you already seen where the place is?"

The little genius of the family nodded: “Yes, but you will have to rent a car. I would almost advise you to do it tomorrow night."

Well, it was perfect: at least that same evening he could have done everything calmly with the handsome guy who still continued to look at him from time to time.

Jon, however, did not seem as convinced: "You think she won’t move?”

"Why should she?" Robb said, while with his fingertips he tickled Rickon’s neck: “It's not like she knows we're here. Let’s do this: tomorrow afternoon we’ll think about what to do, in the evening we’ll take what we need and the next day we’ll start doing things properly. Deal?"

He looked at his brothers: it was the most logical solution to follow, and this Bran knew it. That's why he agreed with him: "Deal"

Robb smiled at him.

"Jon?"

The boy sighed: you could see it from a mile away that he only wanted to finish the mission as soon as possible and then go home. But he had no other choice, and at least he knew this.

"Deal..." he whispered, before concentrating only and exclusively on the food he had on his plate.

* * *

After dinner, Theon kept an eye on the red-haired boy all the time. To his sweet surprise, the guy did the same. Theon saw him say something to his brothers, and then move away to the nearest bar area, while the three boys walked away. Theon told Satin to go for a ride, and the boy said he would take the opportunity to go and see the pool and bar outside. Theon told him to do as he pleased.

The guy with red curls, meanwhile, had sat down at one of the bar stools and stared at him with a mischievous smile, just waiting for him to sit next to him. Theon satisfied that request immediately: "Hey"

"Hey" up close, that boy was even more handsome: as he predicted, he had freckles; his eyes were so unusual blue that Theon never wanted to stop looking at them; his plump lips were so rosy and stood out noticeably in contrast to his white skin.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asked him. The guy’s smile widened. He had two slight dimples on his face, which made him look even more beautiful.

_ It will certainly be one of the most beautiful fucks of my life. _

"Gladly," said the boy. Theon then called the bartender: he ordered a Martini, the boy took a Margarita. As the bartender went to work, Theon extended a hand towards the guy, introducing himself: "Theon"

The man squeezed it, he had a strong and firm grip, just as Theon liked: "Robb"

What a beautiful name. He probably only thought of it because the person who wore it had a beautiful face, but he couldn't help but think that everything about that guy was unfairly perfect. And Theon was about to fuck that unfairly perfect guy: there could not have been a better evening. But he had to play it well.

"You're here with your... brothers, I guess," he said, thanking the bartender with a nod of the head when he brought them the drinks.

Robb nodded, "Oh yes. Our parents decided to leave for a second honeymoon, and I took the opportunity to spend some time with them and take them on vacation: it's difficult to see each other, with college and stuff"

Theon listened to everything, taking slowly and as sensually as possible, the olive of his Martini between his lips. Then he replied: "Oh, I feel you: I have recently received a job offer on another continent and I think I will accept. But I wanted to spend some time with my little brother first"

He was a dirty liar, and this was one of his best qualities. Not that such a lie would have been important, for a boy who would have seen most likely only that night.

Robb tilted his head to the side, interested: "Where are you moving to?”

"North." He replied with the first place that came to mind: it was difficult to think of anything else with that guy’s marked and incredibly hot accent. If he started whispering things in his ear with that voice, Theon was sure he would come in three minutes without even touching himself.

"I’ll be working for an advertising company."

Robb's long lashes blinked on those two big blue eyes: "Oh, I'm from North"

Theon smiled, sipping on his drink: "I figured. Blame it on the sexy accent." Wink wink "What are you studying?"

He watched Robb's lips peel off the straw, too thin for those lips so fleshy that would have been so beautiful wrapped around his...

"Literature"

"Cool" Theon cocked his back.

Robb shrugged, absentmindedly nodding, “Yeah. Even a little stressful"

Theon's eyes brightened, and he seized the opportunity: he placed his drink on the counter, and leaned forward to be closer to the charming stranger.

"You need to relax a bit, huh?" He whispered.

"Yeah..." Robb said, just as softly. Theon felt a shiver run down his spine: "I've always liked guys with freckles"

An eyebrow raised, and two eyes that looked at him with desire to tease him a little: "Only guys?"

Theon smiled, moving closer until their noses were about to touch: "Only the ones with red curls and the bluest eyes I've ever seen"

Robb did not withdraw: "And there have been many?"

"If everything goes as planned tonight, only one"

But now he moved away: "What's your room?" His voice was so hoarse that it almost trembled. It was so attractive to Theon that he narrowed his eyes and enjoyed every word.

"207" he replied, almost moaning.

Robb's hand rose and touched him on the face, lightly stroking the hint of beard with the tip of his fingertips.

"Is your bed comfortable?"

Robb's thumb rested on Theon's lower lip. He opened his mouth, teasing his fingertip with the tip of his tongue: "Very.” He answered.

"I wouldn't mind sharing it"

Robb consequently placed his Margarita still half full on the counter, next to Theon's Martini, and got up from his stool: "Lead the way then"

So Theon led him to the elevator. Once inside, he dared to put a hand on his back. Robb didn't object: he let him do it, and he didn't even complain when Theon's hand slid over his jeans, then squeezed slightly. Those blue eyes stared at him all the time.

The elevator doors opened, the corridor with red, yellow and orange wallpaper appeared in front of them.

Theon pushed Robb slightly towards the exit: "Go ahead"

The redhead satisfied him, but looked at him puzzled: "I don't know where I have to go"

Theon shook his head, as if to say that he didn't have to worry: "You go on, I'll guide you"

And at that point Robb understood his true intentions: "You want to look at my ass, huh?"

Theon leaned his chest against the boy's back and made his hands venture along his entire body: "Mhm, it may be."

Staying in that position, Theon led Robb to the room, occasionally leaving a few wet kisses on his neck. He reversed the situation once they arrived to front of the door, making sure that Robb turned to him and that his back touched the wood: "We made it"

He took the key card, passed it on the lock and opened the door, then put it back in his pocket: they would not have needed to keep the light on anyway.

⚠️ **(Beginning of smut)**

Robb was the first to start the kiss: Theon did not even have time to set foot inside the room that the red haired man's hands were on his hair and his soft lips were on his. Amused, Theon opened his mouth to make sure that their tongues could fight for control: neither of them won; only when Theon began to squeeze his ass again did Robb groan and let Theon move as he wanted.

The mercenary then unfastened the boy's belt and lowered his pants. Robb took the opportunity to stop their kiss for a second and take off his shirt.

Theon took a second to admire him: he had freckles on his shoulders and forearms too, not only on his cheeks. And the little friend he held between his legs was not bad at all. _At all._

Theon smiled, put a hand on his chest, pushed him on the bed, crawled over him, kissed his neck, rubbed his own erection covered in jeans against his, completely free.

"How do you want me?" Robb panted.

In response, Theon finished undressing completely: "Turn around."

Robb obeyed him, going on all fours. Theon put a hand on his hair, inviting him to go even lower with his back: “Down, like that. Good boy"

Now he had that beautiful ass there all to himself. He kissed his opening to let him get used to it, before introducing his tongue. Robb's breathing began to get rough right away, while he held his head in between the pillows. Theon continued to lick him until he was convinced he had lubricated and opened him enough;then, without warning, after putting on his condom, he introduced two fingers.

Robb winced, moaning: "Oh fuck... what’s your name again?”

The Kraken gently kissed the boy's lower back: "Theon" he replied, moving his fingers.

"Theon" moaned Robb.

"Say it louder" Theon introduced another finger.

"Theon"

"Louder" he removed his fingers and replaced them with his penis, pushing.

Robb was out of breath for a moment: "Theon!" He screamed immediately afterwards, moaning.

Theon began to move: he was so _tight_. He seemed to have been born to welcome Theon into him. He was not mistaken when he said that he would make the most delicious verses: Robb's hoarse accent turned into a very sensual, slightly acute pleasured moan with each push.

Theon squeezed a pale buttock in his hands, then slapped it, admiring how the color changed and became rosier.

It lasted a long time, but Theon wished it had lasted even longer.

Once the covers were stained by their seeds, Robb lay on his stomach on the bed and Theon sat down beside him, stroking those red curls: "Well, my compliments. Best sex of the past few years,” he chuckled.

Robb returned the smile, still with heavy breathing and a sweaty forehead: "And you still haven't seen what it's like to be on the other side"

Without leaving Theon the time to understand what those words meant, Robb was on top of him, kissing his chest.

"Wait, I..." _I need to catch my breath, the best fucks always leave you tired._ But he never would have said that. And then, of course he wanted Robb to fuck him: he could have fucked him and got fucked by him all night long if only it would have been up to him.

Robb kissed him under his belly button: "Trust me"

Theon raised an eyebrow: "You're a stranger"

_ A sexy stranger, though. _

“You just put your dick inside this stranger’s ass. I know you want it,” said Robb, as his hand began to tease Theon's opening.

The mercenary closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow: "Yes ..." he murmured.

Robb put a finger: "Say it"

"I want it"

"You want what?" Another one.

Theon bit his lip: he was already good even with just his fingers.This was without a doubt the best evening of his life.

"Fuck me," he replied.

He heard Robb smile, "I’ll do it right away."

ut first he made sure he was nice dilated. Then he penetrated him, so slowly that Theon nearly screamed at how beautiful it was. He had to bite his tongue not to yell too loud: "Ah fuck, ah!"

Robb brought his face close to his: "Do you want me to stop?"

_ Ah no, don't even think about it. _

In response, Theon stood up, grabbed Robb's buttocks again and pushed him down, even more deep inside him: "You try and I'll kill you"

⚠️ **(end of smut)**

* * *

No one in the State of Dorne could know what Satin's real job was. Or rather, maybe Satin had fucked someone from Dorne, maybe even from Sunspear, but certainly they were not people who could have afforded to spend the night at the Doran Martell Hotel. So he didn't have to worry, nobody would offer him money to have sex. Or at least, maybe some pervert and pedophile was among all those people, but certainly, in a hotel, in public, like this, Satin had the opportunity to tell them something that never before could he have allowed himself to say: no, I don't want to do it.

Theon Greyjoy had left him a condom that Satin now kept in his pocket. In case he wanted to have fun that evening.Having fun, as if Satin could now associate sex with fun or anything other than work.

_And why can't you do it?_ He wondered. _You're not in Oldtown here. You could try to do something with someone nice, someone pretty._

Maybe, for once, having sex with someone without asking for money in return would have been really fun. Trying to pick someone up just because he wanted sex and not because he needed a sandwich would have been fun. Because Satin really wanted to have sex with someone he liked, maybe if not temperamentally, even only physically: someone he chosen, someone who thought he was cute in turn and who would have behaved well, with him. Someone his age, like normal people did.

It had happened, once, that Satin had had sex with a boy his age, only once. He had been a jerk: he had mistaken him for a girl, but when he saw that this was not his case, he had not flinched. Because ''anal sex was better than vaginas', so ‘it didn't matter that he didn't have boobs'. In fact, he had something familiar: perhaps they had been classmates in middle school, so Satin had not told him his name. He had recorded a video: you couldn’t see their faces, only Satin’s butt and the other dude’s dick moving inside him, therefore Satin hadn’t cared much: it would have been useless in anyway.

_ But think about it, now you have the opportunity to act like a normal person, even if for a short time. What is your ideal type? _

Satin had a half idea that he was more interested in boys than girls, although his worst sex memories included men only. But he didn't know exactly what kind of boys he liked: his opinion never mattered, after all, he never asked himself the question.But now that he thought about it ...

Well, the boy sitting there at the outdoor bar counter was certainly not bad. He must have been around his age, even if there was something on his face that made him look a little older. Maybe it was the sharp nose, and the long face. But he was cute: the brown hair that came almost to his shoulders and the tanned complexion almost as much as Theon’s reminded him so much of some actors he had once seen in one of his mother's old magazines.

He stood looking at him for a while: he had a glass with a red drink inside, but he was too busy looking towards the sofas full of children a little further away to drink. After ten minutes, Satin took courage: he wouldn’t have minded to 'have fun' with him. And at least, if he understood earlier that he had no intention of doing anything sexual with him or that he was not interested in boys, he would still have been able to speak to one of his peers for... the first time? He was Oldtown's youngest whore for a reason, after all.

He got up from his sofa and sat down next to him: "Hi." He said.

Up close, he could see better the marked features of that boy's profile, and his eyes with such unusual color: they seemed gray, so gray as to appear black. And yet, despite his sharp face, his neck and the rest of his body were slender, his legs skinny, his hands long. And there was something kind in his gaze, even when he did not respond to his greeting.

Satin decided to try again: "Are you going to drink that?"

The boy frowned, looking even older. He turned his head slightly towards Satin, just enough to look him in the eye.

"Are you talking to me?" He asked him.

Satin blushed: he had a strong accent, he didn't come from there. Maybe from North. He shrugged: "Do you see any other boy around my age with whom it would not be so embarrassing to talk, rather than with all the middle-aged old people around here?"

Jon did not reply, on the contrary: he blushed slightly too.Satin nodded a smile: "I’ll ask you again: are you going to drink that?"

The boy blinked a few times, looked at Satin, then at his drink: “Yes, of course. I just stopped for a moment to keep an eye on my little brothers"

With a nod of his head, he pointed to one of the sofas. There was one where only two auburn-haired children sat, one around five years old and the other around ten.

"Are they the two with red hair?" Satin asked.

The boy nodded: "Yes. And they are my real brothers, in case you were wondering" he smiled slightly.

Satin chuckled, "I wasn't wondering."

And then he added, "My brother's skin is so tanned that he looks like the human version of Aladdin while I look like a corpse."It was a lie that Theon was his brother, but he had to keep his cover after all. And if he had talked to someone about it then maybe he would have calmed down.

He reached out to the boy: "I'm Satin, by the way"

The boy shook his hand: "Satin?"He asked, perplexed. But he didn't say it badly, nor did he want to make fun of him like any of Satin's customers did: he was just curious.

Satin nodded, feeling his cheeks burn slightly: "Yeah, my mom liked stupid names," he murmured, looking down.

"It's not stupid, it's cute"

Satin's heart jumped: he had paid him a compliment. A pretty, kind boy had just paid him a compliment.

"Thank you..." he whispered, letting the boy know he still didn't know his name.

"Jon."He answered.

"And you don't look like a corpse" he was looking at him carefully now.

Satin smiled, "No?"

"No. I'd say you look like you were made of porcelain, actually.” Jon blushed in turn. He did not look him in the eye when he said this: he did not seem one who had much experience with boys. Maybe he liked girls. Maybe. Or maybe both. In any case, there was no way you told a boy he seemed to be made of porcelain without being interested. Right?

"Isn't it weird that we are the only teens here?" Satin asked, looking around quickly.

A corner of Jon's mouth rose: “The only ones who don't seem to come out of a GQ magazine, at least. How old are you?" he took a sip of his drink for the first time. He made a strange face, probably the drink had warmed up or was too strong.

"Seventeen, you?" Satin replied.

"Sixteen"

Oh, so he was younger than him. He didn’t look like he was. Satin though he should have been at least eighteen, even if he looked at least twenty. Maybe the bartender who let him have a drink despite being a minor thought the same thing.

"You're from North, aren't you?" Satin was inclined to make conversation that evening: that boy seemed nice to him. Shy and a little awkward, but nice. Maybe he didn't even want to have sex with him. Well, if he had offered it to him, as a simple thing and... yes, maybe a little intimate but not too much, that had nothing to do with his job but with the 'fun' that Theon was talking about, he would have agreed.

"Winterfell," Jon replied, nodding. Satin could have bet on it: he had a voice too hoarse and fascinating to be raised in Dorne.

"Is it a nice place?" He asked.

Jon shrugged: “It's cold. But you can get used to it.Would you like some?" He offered him his drink.

Satin first wanted to tell him that he could get used to any place, because any place was better than Oldtown, but he knew he shouldn't. So, he took the glass that had been offered to him and took a sip: it was the most bitter thing he had ever drunk, much more than all the cheap beers that his customers offered him from time to time. But it wasn't bad: his throat burned intensely for a second, but it was a pleasant burning. He passed the glass back to Jon: "Wow, it's... bitter, for being so red"

Jon smiled at him: "Do you like it?"

"Yup"

The gray-eyed boy drew the bartender's attention with a wave of his hand: "Bring another one, please," he said, raising his drink.

The man across the counter made a mocking smile, and indicated Satin with a nod of the head: "Is he old enough?" he asked.

"He's my age," Jon replied. The bartender nodded once and returned with the red drink. Jon moved it to Satin.

"Thank you but you didn't have to," said the seventeen-year-old, grabbing the glass and taking another sip.

"But I wanted to," Jon replied.

Satin stopped drinking, put his glass on the table, looked at the boy in front of him: he had received far too much kindness in a single day, for no reason. First Theon, who perhaps had an ulterior motive but Satin was grateful to him anyway, and now this boy with strict features and uncertain eyes who offered him a drink just because... because?

"You're cute" the words came out of his mouth as if nothing had happened: he really meant them. He hated having to compare every new experience with the bad ones he had with his customers, but he couldn't help it: some told him to tell them bad things, a bit like the things that Euron said to him.Others asked him to praise them in any way possible.Sometimes, in the first case, Satin found an outlet. In the second, he just wanted to cry.

But this time he had spoken sincerely because that boy was really cute. Aesthetically and internally. He was very cute.

The flush in Jon's cheeks intensified: "So are you." He answered.

They stood looking at each other for a second, Satin was so curious to know something about that boy, Jon instead didn't seem to know what to do, but he refused to look away from Satin's eyes.

It was the youngest to speak first: "So, what do you do?"

Satin shook his glass slightly to see the ice moving: "What do you mean what do I do?”

Jon opened his mouth, closed it. He raised his shoulders, lowered them back: “In life. What do you do?"

_ I’m a slut. I get fucked by people who are three times my age.I fuck people who are twice my age. I hired a mercenary to kill my mom's killer. And I would like to tell you all this because you seem like a good person who knows how to listen. But I don't want to scare you, nor want you to go away. _

"Oh, well... I go to school. Like all normal seventeen year olds in the world." Satin bit his tongue at the last sentence: like all normal seventeen-year-olds in the world? He couldn’t have said a more stupid and suspicious phrase than that. If Theon had been there with him, instead of having a good time with that guy, he would have hit him in the head.And Satin would have deserved it.

Jon opened his eyes wide and nodded several times, straightening his back: “Oh yes, sure. And besides high school, which everyone attends, that is all of us, what do you do? Any hobbies?"

Satin didn't have time for a hobby, Satin had time to work and then breathe a sigh of relief and close his eyes when he had no client to satisfy.

"I like... reading" he lied: the only things he had ever read were his mom's old magazines. Books were too expensive.

Jon continued to drink his drink: "Cool" he replied.

Yeah, cool. I guess.

"And what about you?" Satin decided to ask him the question: he would have liked to learn how a normal boy lived.

Jon raised his eyebrows, finished his drink and placed it on the counter with more strength than necessary: "Oh, I like reading too, yes," he replied, clumsily, staring at the empty glass instead of the boy next to him.

It was sweet that he was so uncomfortable with him. Yet Satin knew that Jon wanted to stay there, that he was interested, because a shy person who didn't want to be there would have muttered an 'I'm sorry' and would have left. But Jon was still there, with that adorable flush in his cheeks.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Satin asked him.

Jon opened his eyes wide and looked at the teenager: "W-what?"He stammered.

"Do you have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend?" The time had come to see if Jon was really inclined to do something with him: Satin wouldn't mind. At all. 

"N-no, not right now," replied the boy.

Right now? The boy thought. Judging by how his eyes blinked as much as possible, a little intimidated and a little curious, Satin wondered if Jon had ever had sex in his life. He asked him, "But you know how it is, don't you? Doing it"

Jon shrugged: "Well yes, sure"

Sure.

"So if you don't have a boyfriend and you've already done it ... wouldn't you mind if I got a little closer? Like this?" Satin arched forward, until his mouth was a few inches from Jon's.Their noses barely touched, tip to tip. Jon didn't back down, but he didn't even get closer.

"There are people... and my little brothers," he whispered.

Satin raised his eyebrows and blew against his lips: "But there are no children in your room, right?"

He knew how to be seductive: he had to be when he hadn't made too much money and the cars passed slowly to choose who to take. But with that boy he didn't have to try too hard: he was already interested in him, and there was no need to pretend anything, because it wasn't about work.

"No..." Jon answered.

Satin ventured to let his hand slip on the boy's thigh: if he asked him to remove it or if he saw that he was not comfortable, Satin would have removed it immediately. And he would have stopped flirting with him, he would have been satisfied with just making a simple conversation. Because he, at least he, knew how it was like to be on the other side. But Jon did not protest, he placed his hand over Satin's and gently stroked it with his thumb. The most delicate touch that Satin had ever felt. Jon seemed such a nice guy. He was convinced that it would be really nice to have sex with him.

"Would you like to go there and spend some time?" He asked: he wanted to do it. He wanted to find out what it was like to have sex for fun, he wanted to find out what it was like to have sex quietly, without anyone telling him how to put himself, how to behave, what to say, how to moan, where to look. He hoped Jon wanted the same too.

The gray-eyed boy's hand grabbed Satin's on his thigh, and placed it on the seventeen-year-old's lap. Jon nodded, "Just give me a second."

Satin watched him get up and walk to the sofa with the two coppery-haired children. He saw him caress the little boy's chin and cheek and ruffle the older boy's hair. Then he lifted a finger, smiling slightly, and recommended something to them.The older little boy looked behind Jon, noticed Satin watching them and rolled his eyes. Satin swore he saw Jon’s blush even from that distance. How cute he was. Adorable. And oddly enough, unlike what happened with all his clients, even years after the day he started, this time Satin didn't feel nervous, he wasn't afraid.

Finally, Jon came back to him, an outstretched hand for Satin to grab it: "What's your room?"

Satin asked the boy the question as their fingers intertwined.

"303" Jon guided him inside the hotel. They got on the elevator: Jon continued to caress the back of his hand with his thumb. It was pleasant.

The boy appeared tense, bewildered, but willing to do what they would surely do: Satin was even more convinced that he was an inexperienced boy, and that he had abandoned the idea of a 'special first time'. But as long as he continued to be willing and kind, Satin didn't care.

Jon's room had a large double bed on the right. They sat there.

"So." Satin began to speak slowly, and brought his mouth close to Jon's: "Can we kiss a little?" He asked hopefully.

"Okay" a whisper was all it took for Satin to rest his lips on the stranger's.

Satin rarely got kissed: only by those who had never been with a prostitute before, by the "inexperienced". Jon was also an inexperienced: his tongue moved slowly, which Satin didn't mind. He didn't even mind that he was leaving him in full control.

He slipped on his lap, and felt Jon's hands encircle his hips and gently caress them. He liked it when Jon caressed him.Nobody had ever touched him like this, and they had just started.

He broke off the continuous kiss to peck the boy once on his lips. Then another time, and another. _Thank you,_ he wanted to tell him, _thank you for not being an asshole. Like this, it’s not that bad._

He continued to peck his lips, desperately: _thank you, thank you, thank you. I wish I knew how to have fun._

When he feared he could begin to cry, he stuck his tongue back into the boy's mouth, who let him be, quietly. It was Satin who decided what to do, but he did it politely, gently, because that boy was tense as a violin string. And he wanted him to feel comfortable: it had to be a funny, pleasant adventure.Jon had to enjoy it too.

And Jon was enjoying it: he began to gain more confidence with Satin's body on top of his, and his hands stopped caressing his hips and moved on his chest and back, then on his bum, both of them. At that moment, Satin felt Jon's erection pressed against his body.

He was almost about to kiss the boy even more passionately, when he broke away abruptly, his red cheeks and embarrassed eyes: "Sorry, I... it’s just that you‘re really pretty and..."

Satin couldn't believe his ears: he was apologizing for... for that. For what people paid to do, he could have it for free. Yet he apologized because... because it didn't seem polite to him.Because he wasn't used to it and because... he didn't think it was right to rub his penis against the body of a young boy. God, was Jon so different from all the people Satin had dealt with and they knew each other for how long? Half an hour?Satin already wanted to keep him next to him for all his life.

"It doesn't matter, don't worry." He reassured him.

"It doesn’t matter.” Now it was his erection that touched Jon's body. The boy stiffened even more, but continued to stroke the older boy's thighs.

⚠️ **(Beginning of smut)**

Satin decided it was time to get busy: "Would you like it if... I took off my shirt..."

He threw Theon's Hawaiian shirt on the floor.

"And maybe even my pants..." he unbuckled his belt and the pants went to keep the shirt company.

"Yes ..." Jon whispered.

Satin pushed him onto the bed. He kissed his neck as he placed two fingers inside his mouth. He tapped lightly on his lower lip, inviting him to open up. When Jon did, Satin asked him to suck while he continued to nibble on his chest and shoulders, leaving marks here and there.

He waited for his fingers to be thoroughly wet, then slipped them into his own ass, under the boy's hypnotized gaze.

After a few minutes of moaning, Satin took his hand away and smiled slightly at Jon: "Now you should get undressed too."

Slowly, so slowly that Satin nearly tore all his clothes off him, Jon did as he was told, then lay back on his bed again, with only his underwear on.

Satin smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss his lips: “Good, just like that. Let me take care of you."

He got out of bed to retrieve the condom from his pants pocket. Then he settled astride over Jon again: "Now let's take these off..." he murmured, pulling his underwear off. Jon sighed, closing his eyes and barely opening his mouth, while his penis was finally released.

"And let’s put this on" with agility, Satin put on the condom.

He took a moment to look at the boy before him: handsome, young, kind, cute, not violent art all. That’s what he liked, it was nice that way.

He stroked his hair and kissed his cheek: _thank you again_. Jon put a hand behind his head and kissed him with strength and passion, then began to bite his neck: he was ready, he wanted to do it. Satin began to sit and slide into Jon's erect penis.

"Fuck ..." the boy under him murmured.

_ Yeah, fuck. _

Satin stroked his chest, starting to move slowly: "Do you like it?"

Jon nodded, moaning: "Yes..."

It went on like this: it was a crescendo. Satin was as kind as Jon was: the seventeen year old appreciated every caress that Jon gave him. Jon really liked to caress him, and Satin did not complain: it made everything much more intimate and even if they probably would have done it only that night and then never again, the boy was happy to hear such a strong difference between that type of sex and his job. Why? Because Satin was now having fun. He was with a handsome boy, in a beautiful hotel, and for the first time, he wasn't pretending to be morning. Especially when Jon's hand wrapped around his dick and began to caress there too, Satin could not hold back a cry of pleasure, while a warm shiver ran down his back.

"Ah! You‘re good at it..." he exclaimed, smiling. Jon was smiling as well.

They came almost at the same time. Satin slumped on the bed, beside Jon, and allowed himself to be embraced and kissed on the lips, reciprocating both gestures lazily.

⚠️ **(end of smut)**

"You're cute, Jon," he murmured, sweeping a strand of Jon's hair behind his ear.

The gray-eyed boy smiled at him, placing a light kiss on the corner of his mouth: "You too, Satin. And you have an adorable name."

Satin blushed again: he liked it when he said he had a nice name. He kissed him again, enjoying the softness of those lips, thanking him indirectly for the umpteenth time, for the umpteenth thing. He would have liked to stay there forever: it had been beautiful. Then a phone began to buzz: it wasn't Satin's, his had a very annoying ringtone that he hadn't managed to change yet.

Jon was forced to get out of bed, snorting, to pick up the phone and read the texts someone had sent him. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated: "Fuck, my brother is coming back"

"Okay, I’m getting dressed." Satin said, getting up in turn to collect his clothes, while Jon slipped inside his. Satin had come all over his chest and belly, hadn't touched the covers, and he frowned at seeing the boy getting dressed without even cleaning himself.

Jon ran both hands over his face in frustration, and Satin put a hand on his shoulder: "It was cute to do it," he said, and he had never been so sincere.

Jon nodded, a hand resting on Satin’s side and squeezing lightly: "Very cute"

Satin shrugged: "Do you feel like meeting again tomorrow?"

It would have been nice to do it again, or simply talk to him and get to know him a little better, just for the sake of having had a good experience outside Oldtown.

Jon nodded a few times: "Yes, of course. Will you leave me your number?"

Ah yes, his number. _What’s my number? Come on, wing it._

"Oh well... I don't know my number by heart..." he began, scratching his neck nervously.

“Can you leave me yours? I promise I’ll text you.”

Jon looked puzzled, but finally accepted, "Okay, will you ... give me your phone?"

Satin took a moment longer than necessary to understand what he meant: _where did you expect him to write it, on your hand? You are really an idiot, sometimes._

"Oh yes. Yup." He did, grabbing his new cell phone and handing it to him.

Jon quickly saved his number: "See you tomorrow then?"He finally asked.

Satin nodded, and gave him one last kiss on his lips: "See you tomorrow"

Then he ran away, barefoot and with his shoes in his hands, before Jon's brother caught them. He laughed all the way from Jon's room to his own.

* * *

"Night night."

Jon watched Robb kiss Rickon goodnight and then crawl to Bran's other bunk bed: "Light off and no computer." He recommended him, kissing him on his forehead too.

Jon remained leaning against the door of his room, half of his mind looking at the scene in front of him, the other half thinking about what had happened a little while ago: he had had sex for the first time, with a stranger, and it had been beautiful. He still could feel Satin's soft hands touching him everywhere, and his mouth so pink that it was almost red all over his body. He could not get it out of his head.

So when Robb had turned off the bedroom light, Jon decided to follow him to the other room, to try and distract himself: "How did it go with the guy?"

It was a little difficult to get distracted though, if he thought that the bed in which his brother would sleep was the same bed in which Jon and a boy had fucked until a few hours ago.

Robb chuckled: "Good." He answered.

"I don't think you want me to go into detail though"

"No, indeed" Jon raised a hand and shook his head, and Robb ruffled his hair.

"What about you instead? How was your evening?"

He shrugged: “Nice. Quiet. Everything okay.” He felt relaxed, sticky and older at the same time. It was a good feeling, more or less. If it wasn't for the sperm that he hadn't washed off yet, here.

Robb smiled at him: “Glad to hear that. I'm going to sleep now, you should go too”

Jon seized the opportunity: "Okay, night"

"Night, baby brother" Jon let Robb caress his head again and then ran to his room, straight to the bathroom: in the shower, he noticed that the decorations on the tiles were the same as the wallpaper in the other rooms: a yellow sun with stylized eyes and mouth. He wondered if it was the same in Satin's room too.

Satin.

He was so looking forward to seeing him again.

* * *

Best sex of his whole life. Seriously. Wow.

Theon was distracted from his thoughts when someone started knocking on the door repeatedly: “Hey, are you going to open up? You're the one with the key,” said the boy's voice.

Theon rolled his eyes: "Yeah, just give mesecond" he got out of bed and put on a new pair of boxers, while he ran a hand through his still wet hair for the shower he had took earlier.

When he opened the door, Satin had raised eyebrows and a smirk on his face: "Nice fuck?"

Theon chuckled: "You have no idea"

He moved aside to allow him to enter. Only a day had passed, but it already seemed to him that the sad and weak boy who worked as a whore had already disappeared: Satin was more lively, happier.

"I think I'll go to sleep now," said the boy, taking off his shirt.

“I put some pajamas in your suitcase," Theon replied absently.

"Thanks" Satin put the suitcase on the bed and opened it.And it was at that point that Theon noticed: "Hey!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Satin frowned, and Theon pointed to the reddish mark that the boy had on his neck: "That one is new"

The boy blushed, and immediately covered the red sign: "Um ... it may be"

Theon opened his mouth, amused: "I can’t believe it, and did you get paid?" that boy was cooler than he thought, that little shit.

Satin shook his head, shrugging his shoulders: "No. I mean ... he was cute and... I wanted to do it with someone cute. I think he was even a virgin, so he was kind. It was good,” he admitted, shyly.

Theon tilted his head slightly: it must have been the first time that boy had sex with whoever he wanted and liked. Somehow, he was happy for him. Enough to reach out and mess up his dark curls: “Go to sleep, come on: tomorrow we have to wake up early. I heard there’s omelets for breakfast "

He winked at him. Satin smiled slightly and sat down under the covers: "Goodnight Theon"

The mercenary stood there, watching him: he wasn't that bad. And then, he saw that he learned quickly. Maybe keeping him at home and making him work as his housekeeper would not have been a bad idea. Neither for him nor Satin himself.

"Night Satin" he replied to the boy, lying in bed: he would have thought about it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you care, I’m on tumblr: @littlerockerao3


End file.
